Pretend
by johnlocked91
Summary: Wanting to finally be rid of all of his brothers surveillance, Sherlock proposes they make a wager. Mycroft agrees and gives Sherlock fifteen days to make someone fall in love with him. The problem is, that someone is John Watson.
1. Chapter 1

HELLO ALL. I HAVE DECIDED TO START A NEW FICTION THAT HAS BEEN RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD FOR A WHILE NOW. HOPE YOU ENJOY!

PLEASE COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Chapter One:

Mycroft had just finished reading over yet another pile of paper work when he heard a commotion outside his office door which could only be caused by one particular person.

Sherlock.

"Bugger off! I don't care if my brother is not to be disturbed!" He heard, muffled, just outside his door before it was swung open harshly by a very angry looking Sherlock.

His secretary had hurried inside, looking quite flustered.

"I'm so very sorry sir. He would not listen." She explained, worried.

"It's quite alright, Nora." Mycroft reassured with his patented false smile. "Close the door behind you."

Nora scurried out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"How nice of you to drop by, brother dear. It's been ages." Mycroft said, turning the smile on Sherlock.

Sherlock scowled deeper.

"You can cease with the pleasantries, Mycroft. You know why I'm here." He growled out.

Mycroft let the smile slip from his face.

"On the contrary, brother, I haven't the slightest."

"I think you do." Sherlock answered scornfully. "Yesterday I found six new cameras in my flat. Your cameras, I might add and I removed them. Now imagine my surprise when I do another sweep this morning to find that they had all been replaced."

Mycroft sighed.

"Sherlock, the cameras were installed for your and Dr. Watsons' protection."

"What could possibly happen to one of us in the bathroom?" Sherlock raged. "You just want to keep tabs on me."

"I want to make sure you are safe." Mycroft corrected.

"So you need a camera in every room and hall in my flat? Is my life to be put on display like some ridiculous reality program for all of the government to see?" Sherlock bemoaned.

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Sherlock." Mycroft said, exasperated.

"I'm not being dramatic. I'm simply demanding that you remove the surveillance." Sherlock objected. "And while we're on the subject, brother, I want your henchmen to stop following me"

"No." Mycroft said simply.

Sherlock gave a frustrated growl opening his mouth to speak, but Mycroft interrupted.

"I am your elder brother. It is my responsibility to keep you safe and I will use any means at my disposal to ensure it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes angrily at his brother before throwing himself into the chair by his side petulantly.

"Fine. What if we make a deal? Give me your most difficult case. If I can solve it in twenty-four hours you remove the cameras at least." Sherlock offered.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I have no cases presently, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned, thinking.

"Alright. What about a game? If I win, I get the cameras removed."

"I don't have the time or patience to play games with you Sherlock. You're wasting quite a bit of my time as it is." Mycroft answered, the annoyance clear on his face.

"Fine. I'll just move out. Find a new flat somewhere even your henchmen wont be able to find." Sherlock answered, with crossed arms looking all of about five years old.

Mycroft sighed loudly.

"Oh very well Sherlock. You win. But if I actually have to go through with this juvenile game of yours, it cannot be won through something with which you have natural talent, like a case."

Sherlock smirked at his older brother.

"Well seeing as I excel at most things, it's going to be rather hard to find something to wager."

Mycroft gave his own answering smile.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure. I believe I know the one area in which you are lacking in the most." He teased.

"Oh? Do tell, brother." Sherlock said confidently.

"Love." Mycroft stated simply. "You will have fifteen days from today to make a person of random choosing that we are both acquainted with to fall in love with you. If you can pull that off, brother, I will remove all cameras except the for main entrance to you flat. Agreed?"

Sherlock scoffed. "You're making this rather easy. Do you want me to win?"

Mycroft smiled knowingly.

"You forget, brother mine, I know you better than you think. Love and sex go hand in hand, Sherlock. And as I've said before. Sex alarms you. Love will practically be your undoing."

"Sex doesn't alarm me, Mycroft. Neither does love. One needn't have experience in such baser instincts to play the part." He countered confidently. "You forget something also. I'm a wonderful actor."

Mycroft simply shook his head.

"You may be a good actor, but when it comes to the level of intimacy required for this particular task, you will find that your 'acting skills' are quite limited, if not useless."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, unconcerned.

"Enough banter, brother. How do we decide what qualifies as 'falling in love' and how do we choose the person?"

Mycroft leaned back in his chair.

"They must confess their love to you verbally. I of course will be watching via surveillance so you cannot cheat. And as for choosing a person, we will comprise a list of five names. People we both know. Someone will then draw one of the names at random." He answered. "Though, one more rule should be put into place. Under no circumstances can you reveal to anyone this wager."

"Agreed." Sherlock said, then smiled. "I nominate Molly Hooper."

Mycroft frowned at that.

"You must think me an idiot, dear brother. Anyone with half a brain knows that she's in love with you already."

"Fine! You choose first then." Sherlock huffed.

Mycroft thought for a brief moment before giving his brother a smile.

"Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock frowned.

"Let us hope it will not come down to that. I will submit Sally Donovan."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his brothers choice but conceded.

"Very well. I will add Gregory Lestrade and John Watson."

Sherlock sat shocked.

"You can't be serious! John is out of the question!" He protested.

"And your reasoning for that would be?" Mycroft asked condescendingly.

"Because-" Sherlock fretted. "simply because I say he is."

Mycroft gave an exasperated sigh.

"You're reasoning is rejected. One more name, Sherlock."

"Ugh! Fine!" Sherlock shouted. "Edith Hamell."

"Hamell?" Mycroft asked in mild shock. "My sixty-four year old house maid?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied defiantly.

"Very well, Sherlock." Mycroft agreed with a sigh.

"So who can we get to draw name?" Sherlock asked, impatient.

Mycroft simply pressed a button on his land line.

"Yes sir?" Came the voice of his secretary, Nora through the small speaker.

"I require you're assistance, Nora." Mycroft stated.

No less than five second and Nora was opening the door.

"Please draw one slip of paper from this bowl and place it on my desk." Mycroft ordered.

Nora walked to the desk, drew a name and laid it on the desk.

"Is that all, sir?" She asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Nora." Mycroft said dismissing her. After she closed the door, Mycroft picked up the folded paper and read the name.

"Well?" Sherlock asked, his impatience wearing thin.

Mycroft looked up at his brother grinning.

"It's our favorite doctor." He said, placing the opened paper at the edge of the desk for Sherlock to see.

"John?" Sherlock shrieked.

"This should be quite entertaining, brother." Mycroft supplied, quite happy with himself.

Sherlock wanted to punch the smug look off of his face.

"You must have cheated somehow! I demand a re draw!" Sherlock shouted.

"Stop acting like a child, Sherlock." Mycroft scolded. "There's no way I could have cheated."

"But-"

"Accept your fate brother. Or will you bow out now and save us both trouble?" Mycroft asked smugly.

"Hmph! Not likely!" Sherlock huffed out.

"Then you had best be off. You are going to need every last minute of you fifteen days to seduce John Watson."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

 _Stupid Mycroft and his stupid games!_

Sherlock had been pacing the length of the living room for close to an hour.

John would be home in approximately four minutes and Sherlock still hadn't decided how he was going to go about this whole seduction/make John Watson fall in love with him business.

John was his friend, the only one he'd ever had. He was more grateful than John would ever know for that friendship.

And while he didn't know much in the way of things that were and were not acceptable to do to a friend, he wasn't stupid enough to think that this whole plan was okay in the least.

He knew the moment that John's name had been drawn that he should have stopped this farce in it's tracks, but Mycroft was so bloody infuriating when he came out on top at his expense.

Sherlock checked his watch again.

Two minute to go now, and Sherlock was at a loss.

' _Come on! Think!'_ Sherlock berated himself, his pacing going double time.

Suddenly a thought came to him, making him pause in his movements.

He simply needed to imitate the sort of behavior that John preferred in a potential mate. He had observed John enough times with a number of his dates to pull it off.

Sherlock smiled as he heard the familiar gait of his friend as he climbed the stairs to their flat.

Sherlock wasted no time, quickly moving in front of the door as he heard the key turn.

He let John open the door and watched, slightly amused as he jumped, startled to see Sherlock in the door way.

"Christ, you'll give me a heart attack one day!" John said taking a breath, before giving an annoyed huff. "Oi, let me in, yeah? If there's a new case, a five minute break wont hurt. I just came off a ten hour shift."

Sherlock smiled at John brightly.

"There's no case, John."

"Yeah? Well then why are you so bloody happy then?" John asked suspiciously.

Sherlock tilted his head slightly to the side as he had seen a few of John's dates do.

"I'm happy because you're back, of course." He answered, trying out a smile again.

John looked taken aback for moment before schooling his features.

"Right." He answered before taking another step towards the door. "So any chance of me getting into the flat today, Sherlock?"

"Of course, John." Sherlock replied, but instead of moving to the side, he stepped closer to his friend.

' _Just do it like you have observed.'_ Sherlock thought to himself before closing the space between them.

Sherlock wrapped both arms around John in a brief, slightly awkward hug.

Stepping back, proud of himself, Sherlock had to admit he was slightly confused as to the fact that John did not look as elated as Sherlock had thought he would.

This was quite curious.

John normally showed signs of contentment and affection when his dates hugged him.

"Um...What was _that_?" John asked, his eyebrows practically shooting into his hairline.

"A hug John, obviously." Sherlock said in mild annoyance. John look slightly frightened now. What had he done wrong? Maybe he should try it again.

"Yes, Sherlock. I _know_ it was a hug. I guess what I'm trying to ask is _why_ you hugged me?" John asked. He let his confusion show on his face. A few moments ticked by, when John's face suddenly morphed into one of horror.

" _Oh god_. Have you done something not good again, Sherlock?" He asked, alarmed. "Did you set something so fire?" He urged, unnerved.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was upsetting himself into a panic. He was about to say as such, when he heard John gasp.

"Have I been drugged? That's it, isn't it? You've drugged me again!" John said horrified.

Sherlock snorted.

"Of course not, John. Don't be ridiculous. I was simply greeting you with a hug. A standard social interaction between friends."

John studied Sherlock's face a moment more before letting out a relieved breath.

"Alright then. Now let me through, please?"

"Certainly." Sherlock answered, moving back in. He would repeat the hug differently this time. He had to get it right.

John stepped back, his hand coming out in front of him.

"What-what are you doing?"

Sherlock sighed, annoyed.

"Well I was trying for success at this particular social interaction so you could come inside the flat."

John was looking concerned again. _'Damn!'_ _what was he doing wrong?_

"Right." John answered, uncomfortably. "How about let's not, and you let me in, yeah?"

Sherlock had to agree. This had not gone as planned. He would have to research.

"Very well." He answered, slightly frustrated, as he turned and made his way to his laptop.

/

John looked over to his friend for what seemed like the hundredth time. Sherlock was leaned over his laptop scowling, letting out the occasional huff at whatever it was he was doing.

"What are you getting so frustrated over on that thing? I thought you said there was no case right now." John asked curious.

"There's not." Sherlock said shutting his laptop quickly. "It's nothing."

"If you say so." John replied unconvinced, but let it go. Whatever weird stuff Sherlock got up to on the internet in his free time should probably stay private.

Sherlock sat in his chair taking in what he had just read.

He absolutely detested the fact that he had to resort to online research, but desperate times called for extremely desperate measures.

He had actually stooped low enough to read a few articles with promises of true love and happily ever afters. He had also read a few on seduction.

It wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

For now though he would start small.

Compliments were said to have an extremely positive affect.

Sherlock cleared his throat, effectively causing John to look his way and he smiled.

"John, the beige jumper you are wearing today is far less hideous than the one you wore yesterday."

John opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but he didn't look as uncomfortable as he had with the hug.

"Um-Thanks. I think." John replied before looking down, concerned at his book.

Sherlock would count this as a positive result. John hadn't gotten upset. He had even thanked him for the compliment.

Perhaps just one more, then.

"I also find your skill at making tea quite adequate." Sherlock commended.

John looked back to his friend, the concerned look turning to one of mild indulgence quickly.

"Ah. Is this some new way of yours to ask me to make you some?" He asked with a fond smile.

"No. I am simply stating your adequacy in the task." Sherlock replied giving John a look that meant he should know this already.

 _God,_ John _hated_ that look.

"Well, okay then." John said standing. "I'm starving. I think I'll-"

"We should go out." Sherlock stood as well, interrupting John mid-sentence. "to eat that is. Angelo's?"

"Sure." John said, smiling. Hopefully this meant Sherlock would actually eat a whole meal for a change. "Let me get my jacket."

/

"Oh, Sherlock! John! Welcome!" Angelo said enthusiastically, motioning them towards their usual table. "I'll bring out my best wine!" He said hurrying off into the kitchen.

Sherlock mentally went over his next course of action.

Communication was key to keeping your partner interested and happy.

"How was your day, John?" He asked, trying his best to look interested. Sick babies weren't really exciting.

John looked up slightly agape.

"Huh?" He asked dumbly.

Sherlock refrained from rolling his eyes.

"I asked how your day was." He repeated.

John went from shock to confused in about two seconds.

"No, I _heard_ you. I'm just a bit confused, I guess." He said giving an awkward smile. "You have literally _never_ asked me how my day was, _ever_."

Sherlock did roll his eyes this time. This wooing business was quite difficult. Or maybe John was just an idiot.

"If you don't wish to answer, that's fine."

John put out his hand, stopping Sherlock mid-sulk.

"No. Um, it was fine. A little on the boring side. Mostly runny noses and fevers." He answered, his smile looking more genuine now.

"Hmm." Sherlock said in answer, thinking about what he should say next.

Angelo walked over with the dreaded candle placing it on the table with a smile.

"Once again, Angelo. _Not his date_." John said, knowing full well he would be ignored. Angelo just gave a shrug and turned towards the kitchen once more.

"I Don't know why you bother." Sherlock commented.

"I don't either." John replied with a sigh before turning back to his friend. "How was your day, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked over to John with a bored expression.

"Tedious." He answered, then decide it was time for the ' _showing interest in_ _the things he loves_ ' part of the article. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

John considered his answered for a moment.

"I suppose, though when I was very little my mum said I wanted to be a police man." He answered with a small smile.

Gliding over to the table Angelo sat down a chilled bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring them each some.

"Your wine, gentlemen. Shall I put in your usual order?" He asked.

"Yes. Thank you Angelo." Sherlock answered immediately.

John couldn't help the annoyed feeling at having Sherlock order for him like that. He didn't even check with him first.

"What?" Sherlock asked, noticing the glare.

"You didn't even ask me if I wanted my usual order. What if I had wanted something else?"

John complained.

"Did you?" Sherlock asked unconvinced. John always got the same dish every time they came here.

"Well, no. But-" John answered trying to explain.

"Then I fail to see the problem." Sherlock answered triumphantly.

"You would." John mumbled.

Sherlock frowned. He had messed things up again. Why did people bother with this? If Mycroft wasn't so infuriating, he would have given up hours ago.

He had to salvage the evening, but how?

Sharing. The article said that sharing personal things with a mate helps create a deeper bond and more lasting love.

"A pirate." He said into the silence.

John looked up at that.

"What's that?" He asked.

"I wanted to be a pirate when I was a boy." Sherlock answered.

John gave another genuine smile.

"Yes. Mycroft told me once."

Sherlock scowled.

"Bloody Mycroft!" He growled. "Do you two often meet up to talk about me?" He asked, turning an accusing eye on John.

'Oh yes. Twice a week we meet for tea and biscuits and discuss you for hours." John carried on. "It's the highlight of my life really."

Sherlock frowned disapproving.

"Sarcasm is quite unbecoming, John." He criticized.

John smiled at his friend.

"A pirate though. That's pretty surprising." He commented.

"Why?" Sherlock asked curious.

"It's silly, but I have this picture of you coming out of your mum's womb already talking. Deducing the doctor and making one of the nurses cry." John said with a chuckle, feeling silly.

"That is utterly ridiculous, John." Sherlock lamented, but he was smiling now as well.

"I bet you did learn to speak quite early though." John guessed.

Sherlock nodded.

"Mummy said I was talking in full sentences by one and a half."

"Wow. Though I'm not surprised. You are basically a genius after all." John said.

Sherlock gave another small smile. John was always saying things like that.

"Here's your food. Enjoy." Angelo said as he placed their meals on the table.

"Thanks." They both said before digging in.

"This is so good. I was starving." John said between big mouthfuls.

A few moments later he noticed Sherlock had stopped eating and was staring at him.

"What?" He asked self-consciously.

"I've never seen you devour food quite so gracelessly, John." Sherlock teased.

"Shut up, you." John said, feigning annoyance. "I've had nothing but a piece of toast in fourteen hours. I can eat however I want."

"Of course you can." Sherlock answered teasingly.

/

"God, I'm stuffed." John said, rubbing his belly.

"You ate quite a lot." Sherlock answered in return.

"No judging. We can't all live on mystery and tea like the great Sherlock Holmes." John answered. "Oh speaking of tea, we're out of sugar. Mind if we pop in to the market for a moment?"

Sherlock almost groaned a loud. John knew he hated the market.

Tanking a moment, he thought about the best course of action. The article mentioned something about doing things with your mate that they enjoy even if you don't.

"If we must." Sherlock answered. He would accompany John, but he didn't have to like it.

Sherlock followed John through the aisles until they reached the sugar. Sherlock looked around not really understanding why there were eight different brands of the same exact sugar for sale.

Turning away, he saw a short, husky man filling his basket with an assortment of cakes with no end in sight.

"God. How many cakes does he need, really? It's like staring into Mycroft's future." Sherlock remarked, staring.

"Sherlock!" John turned, scolding his friend.

"Well, it's true, John." Sherlock said with a shrug.

"John?"

Both John and Sherlock turned around to find a short, slender woman smiling. She was reasonably attractive according to normal social standards with long brown hair, emerald green eyes and her smile was genuine and warm.

"Oh, wow. Emily. Hi." He heard John answer and turned to look at his friend who was smiling in return.

The woman walked up to them, totally ignoring Sherlock's presence and chuckled happily.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" She asked, her accent clearly american. "You look great!"

Sherlock watched John blush slightly at her compliment.

John cared about her opinion.

And he was clearly attracted to this woman.

They had a history together, though nothing sexual. Hmm, curious. They both showed interest now.

They most probably knew each other before John's military service.

"You're the one who look's great." He heard John say with a laugh. "What brings you to London?"

"Oh, I moved here. Just across the street, actually. I always loved it here when we would visit, so I thought 'What the hell' and when my job offered me a position here I accepted."

"Oh how nice." John answered, sounding quite happy at the moment. "Hopefully we'll see more of each other then. I know I'd love to catch up."

Sherlock watched in the background noticing both of their signs of attraction.

He could leave them alone. He should leave them alone. Forget all about the stupid bet he had with Mycroft.

John obviously had genuine feelings for this woman and Sherlock was his friend.

"Well, since your a native here, I thought maybe you could show me around. Maybe when you have some time off from work?"

Sherlock had to make a choice.

"Oh. Yes, of course. I'd love t-"

"Sherlock Holmes." He blurted out, stepping in front of John slightly, offering her his hand.

Apparently Sherlock had chosen the side of selfishness and he wasn't at all surprised.

Emily looked a little shocked before shaking his offered hand.

"Oh, hi." She greeted with a small smile, though slightly confussed.

John took that moment to move beside him.

"How rude of me." He said with a chuckle. "Emily, this is Sherlock. We work together."

Emily smiled brightly.

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock."

"Like wise." He answered trying a smile of his own.

John cut in again, this time looking at him.

"Sherlock, Emily is an old family friend. Our father's used to do business together and her family would stay in the old family home when they were here."

Sherlock gave a nod and toned them out as they started chatting.

He needed to keep John away from her or he would have no chance at making John fall for him.

He had to keep all women away actually.

John traditionally liked women. In all of their time together Sherlock had never seen John show any interest in men at all. He was however very tolerant of his sister's homosexuality, and had even commented that his sister had fallen in love with a person, not a gender.

He knew that John loved him. Though it was the love of a friend, he was sure that he could change that given enough time.

John had commented on two separate occasions about Sherlock's physical appearance, leading Sherlock to believe that John found him attractive in a purely observational way.

He could change that as well, but did he really want to?

He had no intention of actually pursuing a romantic relationship with John or anyone for that matter.

He had no need for such baser things. He had observed John when he was in the infatuation stage of his relationships. This stage meant John showering them with attention, doing nice things for them, cooking them dinner and such.

Sherlock decided that he would be absolutely fine if John started doing those things for him and if he could get John past infatuation, to love, the reward would be even greater. Well, at least for Sherlock.

John would spend his days pining over him, to no avail.

But first he needed the woman gone.

Tuning back in to the conversation, he watched as Emily jotted down her number.

He had to act now.

"John, the sugar. You have it?" He asked.

John looked to Sherlock with mild annoyance, but answered.

"Yes, Sherlock. I have it."

"Then we should head back home." Then, leaning towards John just slightly, he added. "Didn't you say you were tired from last night?"

Just as expected, John flushed scarlet at the implications and Emily took a step back.

"Oh. You two are-" She said uncomfortably.

John flushed even brighter.

"What? No, you've got it all wrong, Emily."

Emily shook her head and smiled.

"No. It's alright." She said, looking apologetic. "John, Sherlock, if my attention's were disrespectful in any way, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"No." John tried. "Really, you-"

"Sorry." Emily said, low before turning away.

"Come on, John. Let's get you into bed." Sherlock said, feeling quite proud of himself when he noticed that Emily had heard.

"But-" John protested, watching Emily move towards the exit, with a look of pure torturous anxiety.

John was probably going to be quite angry with him when they left, but Sherlock would still count this as a victory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Sherlock looked up for the tenth time in less than ten minutes since they had been home.

Apparently John had taken to slamming everything he came into contact with.

Sherlock was tiring of the noise and though he knew it was his fault John was angry, he still felt rather put out by it all.

"John, why don't you have a lie down or better, make some tea. Such a mundane task might calm you." He commented quite bothered.

John spun around on him in an instant.

"How about you make your own bloody tea!" He shouted, taking a couple of steps towards Sherlock intently.

"In fact, how about you explain to me why you purposefully led Emily to believe that we are-" John paused, searching for the right word. " _involved! Romantically!_ " He finished, the vein in his forehead popping out in his rage.

Sherlock stood his ground. He had to play this just right.

"Preposterous. When did I do such a thing?" He asked with a feigned look of confusion.

John moved closer still, shoving a pointed finger at him as he shouted.

"Oh, no! Don't you play stupid with me, Sherlock Holmes! You know damn well what it sounded like when you implied that I was _'tired'_ from last night!"

Sherlock went deep into his arsenal to pull out his next expression.

A cross between concern and hurt.

"You told me you were tired, John. I was just trying to see that you got proper rest. I am sorry if I did something not good." He apologized, looking regretful. He could see that it was already wearing John down.

"I could speak with her, with Emily, and clear things up if you'd like." Sherlock offered, laying it on thick.

He saw the moment John's anger drained and had to fight hard to keep the victorious smile off his face.

 _Mycroft could shove off._

Sherlock _knew_ he was an excellent actor.

"You're telling me you really didn't try and sabotage my chances with Emily? Truly?" John asked, still a little unsure.

Sherlock gave an apologetic look.

"Of course not, John. I was merely concerned for your health. Again, I am sorry."

John let out a long breath and looked up embarrassed.

"No, I'm sorry, Sherlock. I guess I do need some rest."

"It's quite alright, John. Good night." Sherlock answered, his smile half indulgent, half smug.

"Night, Sherlock."

/

Sherlock had woken early the next morning and decided to do some more research. He needed to step up his game as it were.

He had thought deeply on things as he lay in his bed last night and he decided that the best course of action was to play to the affection that John already had for him.

If he could increase John's affection for him, while at the same time altering John's feelings entirely, he would surely win this ridiculous game.

After searching through various internet articles, reading for an hour, he knew what he had to do.

He needed to devote all of his time to John for the time being. Overload John's system with dopamine and serotonin until all John could think of was him.

Sherlock had to make John feel something for him that John didn't associate with member's of the male sex.

He had his work cut out for him, but he did love a good challenge.

Once Sherlock insured that John did indeed feel something romantic towards him, he would implement part two of his plan.

 _Seduction_

Sherlock quickly reigned in those thoughts.

He was getting ahead of himself.

First he would need to lay out the ground work.

/

John woke up feeling a lot better.

He still couldn't believe he had been so untrusting of Sherlock. He would have to apologize properly today.

He also needed to set things right with Emily, but that could wait.

After taking a shower, shaving, and dressing for the day, he made his way into the kitchen where he heard Sherlock puttering around.

"Morning." John said cheerfully, before taking in the scene in front of him. "Wait, are you cooking?"

Sherlock turned, giving John a smile.

"Good morning, John. And yes."

John stood shocked for a moment before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"And I thought nothing you did could shock me anymore."

Sherlock removed the pan from the stove, plating the food, before putting said plate in front of John.

"Your breakfast." He said, handing over a fork.

John stared wide-eyed.

"Wow. An omelet."

"Yes. I hope you like it." Sherlock said hopeful, a shyness to his features that John had never seen on him before but was totally calculated on Sherlock's part.

John stared at the plate as Sherlock turned back to the counter.

"You made me breakfast." He said, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the gesture.

Sherlock turned back with two cups of tea, placing one in front of John and sat down with the other.

"And tea. You made tea." John added, quite shocked, but touched at the effort that Sherlock had put in to this.

Sherlock's mouth gave an annoyed twitch before he forced the small smile.

"Are you really going to continue to state the obvious, John?"

John gave a little laugh.

"Sorry. It's just-" John paused, looking guilty. "you're being so thoughtful and I acted like a complete git last night." He said, hoping Sherlock understood how sorry he was about it all.

"We both acted poorly." Sherlock said. "And though it was not intentional, John, I am-"

"No. You have nothing to be sorry for." John said with a genuine smile before taking a bite.

"Oh my God! This is delicious, Sherlock!" John praised, before shoveling more into his mouth.

"I'm pleased you like it." Sherlock said, schooling his features into a huge smile, though honestly, he actually was quite pleased.

Hmm. Curious.

"I _love_ it." John supplied in between chewing. "Where ever did you learn to cook?" He asked.

Sherlock grimaced slightly at the memory before answering.

"My mother forced cooking lessons on me before I went off to uni."

John chuckled.

"I might just have to send her a gift basket then."

Sherlock sat watching as John finished his plate. When John looked up and smiled brightly for the fifth time, Sherlock knew he should carry out the rest of his plan for today.

"I was thinking that maybe we could go out today since you're not working." He suggested.

"We have a new case, then?" John asked, putting his dish into the sink.

Sherlock frowned slightly.

Was John really this thick? No wonder he couldn't keep a girlfriend.

"There is no new case." He stated, trying his best not to sound annoyed.

"So then, you want to go out for-" John asked, slightly confused.

"For fun, John. Really." Sherlock griped, unable to hold back his put upon sigh. Really, he could only tolerate so much stupidity in a day, and John was pushing the limit.

John winced.

"Sorry. It's just that we never go out just for fun." He said, wincing again, then immediately started back up. "I mean, we usually end up having fun, or at least I do, but it's not usually what we set out to do, you know?"

Sherlock huffed in mild annoyance.

Asking John Watson out on a date was proving much harder than he initially thought.

So much effort.

Once again he wondered why people bothered with this whole love business.

"Is that a yes or a no, John?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course." John answered with a big grin. "I would love to go out with you."

Sherlock watched, amused as John's phrasing sunk in and he looked up, panicked and slightly flushed.

"Or, what I meant was that I would be happy to be out of the flat today, of course." He finished, only fumbling his words once.

"Wonderful. We'll leave as soon as I get dressed." Sherlock said as he made his way into his room.

/

"So what would you like to do, John?' Sherlock asked as they made their way out onto the sidewalk to hail a cab.

' _Plan your date according to his interests'_ the article had said, so Sherlock had already steeled himself for whatever boring, mundane activities John was under the impression were fun.

"I thought you already had an idea about what we were going to do." John answered, flagging down an empty cab.

"I want you to choose." Sherlock answered, opening the door and climbing in.

"Fine." John said following suit. "But why don't we take turns? That way we'll both get to do something we like."

Sherlock gave a nod.

"Very well, but you first."

"Alright. Let's think." John mumbled before looking up with a smile. "Oh! I know what I want to do."

/

 _hours later_

"Okay Sherlock. It's your turn again." John said, looking at his friend curiously. "What will it be?"

Sherlock thought for a moment.

They had already been to the London film museum because John had an obsession bordering on unhealthy with that James Bond character, which Sherlock found quite annoying.

When it had been his turn, John hadn't complained like Sherlock had assumed he would when his choice had been to break in to Mycroft's office and place all of his furniture slightly askew even down to the pen on his desk.

Mycroft's OCD should have him busy for hours when he returned from his business trip.

After that thoroughly enjoyable scheme, they had eaten lunch at an Indian place that had actually been quite delicious. The waitress had even made a comment about them being a lovely couple. Of course John had overreacted as usual, nearly giving himself an aneurism in the process.

After eating, John had suggested the aquarium, because apparently John also had an unhealthy obsession with sharks that he had never outgrown as a child. Sherlock had to admit that he had quite enjoyed himself, much to his own surprise. John had a way of making things not boring.

This would most likely be their last activity of the evening, and while all day had been surprisingly not dreadful as he had thought it would be, Sherlock needed to focus on the plan.

"I choose the cinema." He answered. Sherlock knew that John took his dates there, so he would associate the place with romance in his mind. Sherlock just had to implement himself into that thinking.

"Sounds like fun." John answered smiling. "Any particular picture you're wanting to see?"

Sherlock had no idea what he was going to watch because Sherlock hated most movies, and television.

"I will decide once there." He answered, hoping that there would be at least one movie that was tolerable.

/

Four movies were playing tonight.

Two of them were absolutely out of the question.

Sherlock hated car chases unless he was personally involved in one, and talking animals were just absurd.

That left a romantic comedy and a movie about the bond between a girl and her horse.

In the end it was a no-brainer. Romantic comedy it was.

"Two tickets for The Secret Kiss please." Sherlock said to the young woman at the ticket booth.

She smiled at them both brightly as she handed Sherlock the tickets.

"You're so lucky." She said looking at John. "I've been trying to get my boyfriend to take me to see this movie for a week."

"Oh no. We're not boyfriends." John explained. He could feel his cheeks flushing.

"Oh." The woman answered. "So it's your first date, then. Good luck!" She said cheerfully, giving John two thumbs up.

"Come along, John." Sherlock said, dragging John inside before he had the chance to say anything in return.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You had to choose The Secret Kiss? Really?" John complained exasperated as they made their way into the theater. "This is why people always think we're shagging." He huffed.

"You shouldn't worry so much over what people presume about us." Sherlock commented as he scanned the people in the room.

"I will if they presume we're gay." John grumbled quietly.

"I don't see why it matters at all what anybody else thinks." Sherlock answered, looking around still.

"So you don't mind that she thought we were together?" John asked, unbelieving.

Sherlock turned to him, taking the opportunity that John had unknowingly given him.

"I could think of much worse than someone thinking we are together. It's actually quite flattering considering what people used to assume about me."

John looked to his friend.

"People thinking you and I are together is _flattering_ to you?" He asked mildly stunned.

"Before you and I began working together, most people generally thought I was much to horrible for anyone to want to be with. The rest of them thought that I had a sexual preference for corpses. So yes. People thinking that someone like you would want to be with me is flattering." Sherlock answered carefully and while he had intended to use this conversation to further his plan, he found that he meant every word.

John looked at him a little sadly before giving him a smile.

"Right. Let's drop this and go see the movie."

"Yes. Snacks?" Sherlock asked. He had never been on a 'date' but he had been observing all of the other couples here and they had purchased snacks.

"Sure." John answered as he followed Sherlock to the counter.

"I require one large pop corn and one large coke." Sherlock ordered stiffly.

"Just one drink?" John asked perplexed.

Sherlock turned, after receiving their food and drink.

"Yes." He answered, brow creasing with mild confusion. "Isn't that how it's done? I observed three separate couples ordering the same thing."

Had he gotten it wrong?

"Well, yes." John answered, looking a little uncomfortable. "But they were-well, never mind. Let's just go sit down."

John led the way, sitting closer towards the back. He didn't need anyone else noticing them and thinking they were on a date.

The movie hadn't started yet and there were couples all around chatting quietly.

"So, The Secret Kiss. I thought you would have picked the action flick over all the rest." John said conversationally.

"Action films are so tedious." Sherlock remarked rolling his eyes. "They get absolutely nothing right."

After a moment Sherlock scanned the room, noting that most of the couples were sitting extremely close. Some of the males had draped their arms around their dates, while some couples were holding hands.

Maybe he should attempt some kind of physical contact.

But what could he do that wouldn't have John running or worse shouting about his not being gay.

 _Again._

Honestly, John told someone he wasn't gay at least once a week. It really grated on Sherlock's nerves.

John had placed the soft drink on the other side, knowing that Sherlock wouldn't drink any. He held the popcorn somewhat in between them, but it wouldn't be an obstacle.

Sherlock decided that he would try moving closer to John first to gauge his reaction.

Slowly, he moved his body to the left until he could feel the wooly fabric of John's jumper against his arm as he moved it to share the arm rest.

He felt John tense, and was prepared to move away, but John relaxed after a moment.

Hmmm. This wasn't so hard after all.

After a few moments the lights went off, and the movie started.

After about five minutes through, Sherlock cautioned a look at John again. He was engaged in watching the movie, though how he could be enjoying it was beyond Sherlock's understanding.

Sherlock glanced round again, taking in the couples. Most of them were still in the same position as he had seen them last, but there was one couple who had decided they would much rather be snogging than watching the movie.

Sherlock looked away from them. He didn't think he was going to be getting up to any kissing.

Moving ever so slowly, Sherlock lifted his arm and slid it around the back of John's chair.

He waited a moment before looking back over.

John hadn't even seemed to notice.

Well, that wouldn't do, Sherlock thought.

He needed for John to see him differently.

As a potential mate and he couldn't do that if John wasn't paying attention to him.

Sherlock moved his arm tighter around john, the length of it pressing into John's shoulders.

Ah. There it was.

John had tensed once again. He was still looking at the screen but Sherlock could see that he had lost all focus on the movie now.

Taking it a bit further, Sherlock curled his fingers around John's shoulder.

John jumped immediately at that.

There. That was better. More reaction equaled more results.

"What are you doing?" John whispered harshly, his face turning towards Sherlock slightly.

"Watching the movie, of course." Sherlock answered, feigning ignorance.

He felt John tense slightly more at that.

"I'm talking about your arm, Sherlock!" He answered a little louder than he had expected.

A couple in front of them had turned and shushed him.

"Why do you have your arm around me?" John tried again, lower.

Sherlock frowned. "I would think that it would be obvious, but I was attempting to show physical affection. That is what you do with those you care about, is it not?" Sherlock asked looking at John in what he hoped was a perfect mimicry of innocent confusion.

"Men don't put their arm's around other men in darkened movie theaters, Sherlock." John explained and Sherlock could see the pink tinging his cheeks, intensify.

Obviously John was affected by Sherlock's proximity. Maybe John was already beginning to see him differently. Though, his blushing could just be from embarrassment.

Sherlock would need more data.

He hadn't planned on using any of the seduction techniques he had read up on this early in the game, but he was curious to know what affect it would have on John.

Slowly he leaned in closer to John's ear.

"What do you suggest we do in a darkened theater then?" He asked, purposefully lowering his voice to a more seductive register.

He leaned back and smiled triumphantly at his friends appearance.

The deep flush on John's cheeks had spread over his ears and neck, and he was gripping his arm rest tightly.

John had indeed taken that comment as Sherlock had intended.

"I'm going to the bathroom." John whispered suddenly, ignoring Sherlock's question completely. "When I get back, I expect whatever game or experiment you're running on me be over Sherlock. I mean it." He gruffed before standing and sliding through the aisle to the door.

Well, that did not go quite as planned, but results were results.

John thought that Sherlock wasn't sincere.

Damn. He had thought that he was playing the part almost perfectly.

He would have to remedy this.

/

John had sat stiffly for the rest of the movie.

Sherlock had thought about trying to speak to him, but in the end decided to let John calm down first.

John always got himself worked up and nothing good ever came of trying to talk reason with him.

Now that the movie was over and they made their way outside, John looked a little calmer.

Sherlock decided that maybe he needed to employ some small talk.

"What did you think about the movie?" He asked. That is what people did after watching something together. They discussed it.

Sherlock had learned that early on in his time with John during one particular long movie marathon.

"Oh. It was surprisingly an alright picture." John answered with a small smile.

Good. If John was smiling then he wasn't angry with him any more.

"What did you think?" John asked, curious.

"It was completely ridiculous." Sherlock answered immediately.

"Right. Forgot who I was talking to." John complained, but he was smiling at Sherlock indulgently.

Sentiment.

"I'm a little hungry." John commented suddenly. "Do you want to find some place open at this hour or go back to the flat for take away?"

"Take away sounds wonderful, John."

Sherlock had endured enough suffering being in the constant company of the imbecilic people that populated London for one evening.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Dinner had been mostly silent. John eating enthusiastically and Sherlock reflecting on the days happenings.

Now they both sat in their chairs with a cup of tea. John had insisted on making it this time to which Sherlock was secretly relieved.

Sherlock loathed making tea. It was just so tedious. It was better that John did such mundane tasks for them.

Sherlock wondered how successful his planned outing had been today. It had seemed as if John had been pleased until the cinema- and the physical contact Sherlock had initiated.

John had said that he thought it was an experiment that Sherlock was conducting on him.

Sherlock had been made fully aware of John's feelings over being experimented on months ago.

Still, he hadn't known what to say in answer when John had drawn such a conclusion, so did that mean John still thought he had been experimenting on him?

Was John angry with him?

Last time John had been angry for nearly two days. Sherlock couldn't afford two days now. Not when he was so far in to this game.

Sherlock had been studying him for the last few minutes.

John's features were smoothed out. He held no tension in his shoulders.

Everything indicated that John was perfectly content.

Should he start a conversation?

"You know, this was fun, today I mean." John said contentedly, startling Sherlock out of his thoughts. "I haven't enjoyed myself like that since..….well it's been a long time."

So John wasn't angry and he had enjoyed their outing.

"It was quite...enjoyable for me as well." Sherlock answered.

John gave a quick smile.

"You sound surprised that you enjoyed yourself."

"Honestly, I am a bit." Sherlock answered truthfully. "As a child, I watched other children go out with their friends or family to places like we visited today. I had always counted myself lucky, knowing that I wasn't missing out on much being excluded as I was, but today I found myself distinctly not bored. I quite enjoyed myself."

"I'm glad." John said with a huge grin.

Sherlock gave a small smile in return.

"You may tease me, but I like this." John said, and Sherlock could see a slight embarrassed blush creep across John's cheeks.

Hmmm. Curious.

"What do you like?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"This. You." John said motioning his hand towards Sherlock. "Sharing things about yourself with me. I feel like there isn't a single thing you don't know about me, but I know next to nothing about you, or your past. It's….nice, is all." John finishes, looking a little flustered, but content.

"You only needed to ask and I would have told you about it." Sherlock answered honestly. He trusted John inexplicably. He had since the first day they met. It was curious, really.

John looked mildly shocked.

"I honestly didn't know I could."

/

John sat fidgeting in his chair.

Sherlock could tell he was thinking about something that John found embarrassing, if his colored cheeks were any indicator.

Most likely what happened at the cinema, given the fact that he couldn't maintain eye contact with Sherlock longer that about three seconds.

Obviously the physical contact had done a number on John's thought process.

Sherlock wanted John to think on it.

But tonight, things had been moving along quite nicely, and if John continued to think on things he may have one of his 'I'm not gay' crisis's again and that would set Sherlock back.

Perhaps Sherlock should share something more about himself.

John seemed to like that very much.

"What did you want to know?" He asked aloud, watching John blink, his eyes focusing on Sherlock once again.

"What's that?" He asked, seemingly confused.

"You said you wanted to know things about me." Sherlock explained. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh." John said. "Um….I'm a bit put on the spot here." He said with a small chuckle.

"I thought you were curious?" Sherlock asked, studying John's face carefully.

"Oh, I am. Immensely so." John answered seriously. "Just let me think on what I want to ask first."

Sherlock gives a nod and waits.

A moment later John looks up curiously.

"Has your relationship with Mycroft always been so….strained?" John asks finally.

Sherlock frowned slightly.

He didn't want to talk about bloody Mycroft.

But he had told John he could ask anything.

Sherlock gave a long sigh before answering.

"I suppose, there was a time, when I was very little, mind you, that I found him agreeable." Sherlock answered. John was looking at him so full of interest, he found himself continuing. "According to mummy, I wanted to be just like him for a while."

John smiled at that and Sherlock felt he had to correct any ideas that John was currently having about 'brotherly love' or any such nonsense.

"But with age came the clarity of just how much of a pompous arse Mycroft is and I quickly outgrew any infatuation."

John gave a small chuckle at that and Sherlock smiled lightly.

"You do love Mycroft though, right?" John asked. "I mean, he is your brother. Harry and I can hardly stand to talk to each other sometimes, but we still love each other."

Sherlock cringed at the words 'Mycroft' and 'love' being in the same sentence before answering.

"I suppose I don't hate him. Though, _love_ is a bit strong." Sherlock said, the dreaded word rolling off his tongue all wrong.

John looked at him unconvinced.

"You do feel it though. Love. In all your life there has to have been someone." John said, looking at Sherlock as if he were some great puzzle he was desperately trying to piece together.

"I am a high functioning sociopath. I am incapable." Sherlock answered, his customary response to such a question coming out automatically.

"Well, we both know that's a load of bullocks." John commented, not buying it for a second.

Sherlock thought about dodging the question all together and retiring to his bedroom for the evening, but strangely he felt a desire to share this with John.

"My parents." Sherlock started and John looked up surprised.

John hadn't thought he would answer either.

"My mother in particular." He added. "I suppose I care for _Mycroft_ as well." Sherlock said, his brothers name coming out in a particularly disgusted tone.

"That's normal, you know. He's your brother." John said with a quick laugh.

Sherlock could stop there. He could end this conversation. John's curiosity had been adequately satisfied.

He didn't have to go on.

"You. I…..care for you as well." Sherlock said and John stopped laughing.

"Oh." John said, his expression a little surprised. "Really?" He asked, at a loss for any other words.

"Of course." Sherlock answered, giving John a small genuine smile. "I find you an invaluable friend, John. The only friend I've ever had really."

John looked at him sadly.

"So, you've really never had another friend? Even as a child?"

Sherlock shook his head slightly.

"No one wants to be friends with a freak. Even as a child they called me by that particular name."

John was looking down, his face angry, before looking back up and meeting Sherlock's eyes intently.

"You're not." John said with conviction. "You're not a freak, Sherlock. You're different, yes, but that's what makes you amazing."

John was looking at him open and full of affection and for the first time since Sherlock had started this game, he felt guilt.

John was his friend.

He chose to be, of his own volition.

He made him tea and made sure he ate and got sleep. He ran around London with him, taking down criminals, though sometimes the criminal took them down first.

He had called Sherlock extraordinary and amazing in a cab in the middle of the night, after they had just met.

No one else had ever reacted that way to being broken down and deduced.

John thought he was good.

Sherlock felt another wave of guilt.

"John-" He started.

He should tell John.

He should tell him and then apologize.

John might not be too angry. He might still remain his friend.

"I….." No. He couldn't risk loosing John. Not over this. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We're friends. We look out for each other." John answered, giving Sherlock a huge grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Sherlock woke feeling far less angst ridden as he had been last night.

Guilt was not an emotion that Sherlock was too familiar with and it had upset his thought process, however, upon reviewing all of his data before bed last night, Sherlock was sure that he still wanted to follow through with the plan.

He just needed to make certain John never learned of it and nothing should go amiss.

He really had very little to loose in the event that he won and he would win.

He would be free of the pervasive eyes of his brother stalking his every movement.

Not to mention he would have bragging rights for quite a while over his success.

Lastly, he would have John. He wouldn't have to share his time with the common population of women that for reasons unknown to Sherlock, John was intent on dating.

No. Sherlock wouldn't have to worry about any woman ever again because John would be in love with him.

When Sherlock needed John for a case, there would be no date to delay him. John would follow him where ever Sherlock asked because he loved him.

Yes. The plan was looking extremely pleasant this morning.

"Morning Sherlock." John called as soon as Sherlock walked through into the living room.

John was in the kitchen fiddling with something as Sherlock gave a mumbled reply.

"Have some tea." John says placing a mug in front of Sherlock's usual kitchen chair. "Oh and I made breakfast this morning as a thank you fro yesterday, though it probably won't be anywhere near as good as what you made." John said as he lowered a plate in front of him.

Sherlock blinked up from his plate and gave John a small smile.

"Thank you, John."

Yes. Sherlock was right in his decision to continue with the plan.

John was already exhibiting signs of deeper affection.

Sherlock ate his breakfast slowly, feeling John's eyes on him the entire time. He wanted to snap at him to quit staring more than once but even Sherlock knew that was not good behavior.

"So?" He heard John ask shyly as he finished the last bite. "What's the verdict?"

Sherlock gave him a smile.

"Very good, John."

John gave a small laugh and beamed at him.

"I'm glad you like it."

Sherlock couldn't believe how wonderfully this was all going. Perhaps he wouldn't even need the full fifteen days.

"Anything you cook is always good, John." Sherlock complimented. He hadn't remembered to compliment John yesterday.

Perhaps he could fit two in today.

Just as he was about to his phone rang.

"Lestrade." Sherlock answered in greeting.

"Sherlock, I've got a body. I could use your insight, if you're up for it?" Lestrade asks tiredly.

"Of course. Text me the address." Sherlock said, hanging up and turning back towards John, who was still smiling at him.

"Are you coming?" Sherlock asks, though he already knows the answer.

"Of course." Comes the reply almost immediately.

/

"Sherlock, John! Over here!" Lestrade calls motioning them over into an alley way as they got tout of their cab.

Sherlock made his way to the body, John following directly behind him.

Sherlock took a moment to inspect the body.

How was Scotland Yard so utterly useless?

A simpleton could have figured this one out.

Anyone really who read the papers.

Perhaps he could use this.

Standing, he let his gaze drift over to John.

"What do you see, John?" He asks, motioning his hand towards the body.

John walks towards the scene, kneeling down and examining the body briefly.

"Um, Female. Mid to late twenties I'm guessing." John starts. "Defensive wounds along the knuckles and forearms. Bruising on her face and around her neck. She's dressed pretty provocatively. Maybe coming from a club, though I guess we can't rule out the possibility that she was a stripper or prostitute." John said, looking up at Sherlock inquisitively.

Sherlock gave a wave for him to continue.

"Time of death looks to be about eight hours ago. Cause of death, asphyxiation. She was strangled." John finishes, standing and looking over to Sherlock again expectantly.

"Brilliant work, John!" Sherlock praised.

And honestly it was quite good. Sherlock was slightly surprised.

"Oh, thanks." John answered, his cheeks flushing as he gave a pleased smile to Sherlock.

Hmmm. Interesting.

John blushed at his praise.

"Ugh. Can you two please make eyes at each other in private? You're physically making the rest of us ill." Donovan says sharply as Anderson makes gagging noises behind her.

John turns immediately closing off his face, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

Damn.

Everything had been coming together smoothly.

"Sargent Donovan." Sherlock greeted, turning the full force of his scrutinizing gaze on her. "You seem quite frustrated. It's no wonder really. What with Anderson breaking things off with you and all the overtime Lestrade has you working, you've had no time to scrub anyone's floors for weeks."

"Sherlock! Not good!" John growls out from behind him as Donovan gives them both an outraged look.

Sherlock turned towards John with an irritated sigh.

"She started it and you know it, John."

"So? What are you thinking, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked making his way back over to them.

Sherlock gives another huff at John's stern expression before turning to Lestrade.

"You already have your killer in custody." He answers.

Everyone is looking at him blankly and he rolls his eyes.

"I suppose you'll be needing an explanation? Fine. The man you brought in last night? The one who made it into this mornings paper? He was the owner of a couple of the local strip clubs. What you didn't know is that he was also running an underground prostitution business on the side. The victim was one of his employees. Perhaps she wasn't giving him his cut in the earnings, either way, he murdered her."

"Fantastic..." John lets out, looking a little sheepish at his outburst.

"Yeah, but how do you know it was him?" Lestrade asks.

"His ring! That's how! God, are you people all idiots?" Sherlock exclaims.

"Sherlock!" John berates him and he gives a huff before explaining.

"Your man was wearing a very specific ring when he was arrested, correct? He is photographed with the ring in this mornings paper." Sherlock says, not waiting for a response to his earlier question. "Along the bruises on the victims throat you will find an indentation with the exact symbol found on his ring, thus proving that he is the killer."

Lestrade looks to the body and then to Anderson.

"And you just happened to miss that fact when you examined the body?"

"Well, I ..." Anderson sputtered.

Sherlock turned to John with a smile.

"Ready?"

John nodded, following him to the main road.

/

The next couple of days were spent with John working at the clinic and Sherlock running an experiment on a couple of human tongues Molly had procured for him.

Sherlock had hardly seen John enough to work on the plan.

Just a few compliments here and there, though by the reaction's John had given, very effective.

Sherlock had even made a grocery run to the Tesco yesterday. It had been absolutely horrid, but again, John had reacted quite favorably when he had found out.

He would have to act today.

John didn't have to go in to work. He had no plans that Sherlock knew of.

Sherlock knew for a fact that John hadn't been on a date in two weeks. He hadn't had sexual intercourse in three.

Sherlock needed to keep it that way.

Sexual frustration would soon set in.

John would become desperate soon and that's what Sherlock needed.

He needed to break through John's barriers.

The date at the cinema hadn't worked out as well as Sherlock would have liked.

John had showed a high level of discomfort at physical touch, so Sherlock decided he needed to start with something a little less intimate.

He had wanted to wait before he implemented any seduction tactic's into the plan, but he only had eight day remaining.

Slowly he put his plan in motion and lounged on the sofa, his shoulders and head being held up by the arm of the sofa and waited.

Another twenty minute passed before he heard John make his way down the stairs.

"Good morning, John." Sherlock called from his position and waited.

"Good mor-" John starts, cutting himself off and Sherlock has to suppress a smirk.

"Um….Sherlock?" John asks slowly.

Sherlock looks to him with a small smile.

"Yes, John?"

"What are you doing?" John asks and he can't seem to find a place to look at for more than a couple of seconds.

"I'm having tea, obviously." Sherlock answers, giving John a look that questions whether he actually contains a brain within his skull.

"I can see that you're having tea Sherlock." John says exasperated. "Why are you having your tea...naked?" John asks waving a hand awkwardly towards Sherlock.

Sherlock gives John a version of his patented 'you're an idiot' expressions.

"I'm hardly naked, John. Do stop over-exaggerating." He says in answer, being sure to sound quite put out.

"A towel doesn't really count, Sherlock." John answers in his lecturing voice.

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Is it really a problem?" He asks calmly, watching John's every reaction.

John looks a little shocked by the question before he shakes his head dismissively.

"Not a problem, no. Just a bit odd, I guess." He answers before taking a seat in his chair.

"Don't know why that should surprise me though. I mean you did show up to Buckingham Palace in nothing but a sheet." John comments with a snort of laughter.

"Mycroft's reaction alone was well worth it." Sherlock said, giving his own small chuckle.

Time passed with John making himself some tea and refreshing Sherlock's cup and they now both sat in companianable silence.

Sherlock had felt John's gaze on him quite often in the last half hour, but quite frankly Sherlock was beginning to get a chill.

If something didn't come of this soon, he would have to give up for now.

As if on cue, John cleared his throat.

A reliable cue that he was about to speak.

"Where did you get that scar?" John asks curiously.

"You'll have to be more specific, John. I have a few." Sherlock answered looking quizzically at his friend.

"That one there." John answers, point towards Sherlock's navel.

The scar is a relatively small one. John would have had to study the area quite meticulously to see the light discoloration there.

This was proving successful after all.

"About a year before we met, I was using quite frequently." Sherlock starts, noting the fact that John's eyes were still resolutely fixed on his abdomen. "I asked for more cocaine than I could pay for. The dealer wasn't very pleased with me."

John did look up at that.

"Dear God! He stabbed you?" He asked, slightly cringing in sympathy no doubt.

Sentiment was a such peculiar thing.

"Yes. I was of course far too high to realize anything had even happened to me. Apparently, someone found me. My brother was contacted and I was placed into rehab." Sherlock explained with a bored expression.

"Wow." John said with surprise. "I never knew it had gotten that bad."

Sherlock gave a shrug.

"Not so bad I couldn't kick the habit." He said and John smiled.

/

After a few minute John had picked up his book from the coffee tale and begun reading. Sherlock, on the other hand was counting the amount of times John had to read each sentence over as he was really preoccupied in staring at him from the corner of his eye.

Sherlock had to applaud himself for this plan.

It was clearly getting results.

After John had read one sentence four times in a row, still with no luck, Sherlock decided he should intervene.

"What?" He asked, without moving.

"Nothing." John answered quickly, pulling his book closer towards his face.

Sherlock turned to look at John now.

He could see a tinge of pink on John's cheeks and ears, obviously embarrassed he had been caught.

Sherlock wasn't about to let this chance slip, however, and began again.

"You're staring. You must have something you want to say." He says, startling John slightly.

John closes his book and turns his attention to him.

"It's nothing. Just….you." John starts looking quite confused. "You've been acting quite different for a few days now."

Sherlock wondered just how much John had actually picked up on.

"Different how?" He asked looking at John quizzically.

"Well," John started, waving his hand towards Sherlock. "this for one thing. I don't believe I have ever seen you in any state of undress before today and we have been flatmates for a long while now." John says pausing a moment, thinking. "Then there's the sharing things about yourself that you've never done. The compliments. The hug a few nights ago."

Sherlock frowned.

"I thought you liked when I shared things."

"I do." John said with a furrowed brow. "I guess I just wanted to know why you've suddenly started, that's all."

Why

What could Sherlock say?

He couldn't very well tell him it was for love.

Not only was the word absolutely cringe worthy for Sherlock to think, let alone speak a loud. John would most probably have an emotional fit of anxiety and promptly pass out.

No.

Sherlock decided that the best course of action was no action at all. He would simply not answer. John would get tired of waiting after a moment. He hadn't had breakfast. He was sure to leave the room soon.

Like clock work, ten minutes later John trudged into the kitchen.

It was at this time that Sherlock had another thought.

He would try and test physical proximity once again. John had showed interesting results when faced with Sherlock's nudity.

Sherlock was curious as to how he would react this time.

Sherlock made his way into the kitchen where john was facing the counter, waiting for his toast.

Sherlock smiled before crowding into John's personal space, letting the front of his body come into full contact with John's as he reached up into the cabinet above their heads.

"Sherlock!" John shouted and Sherlock could feel John tense everywhere.

"Sorry." Sherlock says right against John's ear before pulling away. "Had to get the jam."

John turns around slightly miffed and red in the face.

"You could have asked in stead of crushing me against the counter." He nags.

Sherlock reaches over stealing a piece of toast, before turning back towards the sofa.

"Hmm. I didn't think you could reach it." He answers teasingly.

"Oh, really mature, Sherlock!" John yells after him, but Sherlock can tell he's smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Sherlock! I'm going out to the pub! Make sure you eat something!" John yells from the front door, pulling on his jacket.

Sherlock rounds the corner almost immediately.

"Can I accompany you?" He asks, thinking of all the possibilities.

 _This could bring the plan further along._

John, however, is looking at him as if he has grown a second head.

"You….. _Sherlock Holmes_ , want to go out…..to a _pub_?" He asks incredulously.

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise, John." Sherlock answers, trying his very best not to let his frustration show.

John seems to take a moment to absorb this, to which Sherlock can feel his eye twitch, before giving a smile.

"Yeah. Alright then. If you want to." He answers cheerfully and a little surprised.

"I'll just get ready then." Sherlock says and turns swiftly towards his room.

Once he had closed his door, he made his way to his wardrobe.

He could always wear his regular attire, but a suit didn't seen appropriate for a pub.

He did however have a few disguises that he had used in the past when needing to blend in with the night crowd.

He quickly pulled out the outfit he was looking for and dressed.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he smiled.

He was not a vain person in the least, but he knew that most people he met found him attractive.

Even John had found him handsome in a platonic way when they had first met.

Of course, Sherlock had read it wrong and had tried to turn him down politely to which John had displayed his first ' _not gay_ ' episode of their friendship.

"All ready." Sherlock announced, making his way towards the entrance.

"Wow." John said, quite involuntarily, if his expression was anything to go by.

"What?" Sherlock asked a little concerned.

Perhaps he hadn't chosen the right ensemble after all.

"Nothing." John starts, his eyes taking in Sherlock's outfit again. "I've just never seen you wear anything besides a suit, or pajamas, or strangely as of yesterday, a towel." He says chuckling slightly.

"Does it not suit me?" Sherlock asks, a little self-conscious.

 _He never felt self-conscious…...Why would he suddenly begin now?_

" _No!_ " John starts, fumbling his words. "Um...I mean, yes. That is...you look great….er... _the clothes_." John's ears are turning red again and Sherlock suppresses a smile. "The clothes are great." John finishes enunciating every word carefully.

"Are you done?" Sherlock teases.

John gives a huff and turns.

"Let's go."

/

"I can't believe that guy thought we were….were _shagging_!" John yells in the parking lot, causing Sherlock to almost drop him on the ground as he tries to cover his ear.

"John." Sherlock says sternly. "You are speaking at an ear splitting volume."

John looks at him sheepishly.

"Oh….s-sorry!" He says only marginally lower.

John had gotten far more inebriated than Sherlock had expected.

 _Apparently when John's team loses, he drinks forty-eight percent more than usual._

"Let's just get you home." Sherlock says, pulling John along the street.

"We're not shagging….. _you and I…._ cause I'm _not_ gay." John says, slurring.

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

 _This again._

"Yes, John. I think the whole of London knows you're not gay."

"I like _women_." John continues muttering. " _Beautiful_ women."

"Yes, John." Sherlock replies, pulling on John to keep him moving. The flat was in view and Sherlock wanted to put an end to this night.

"You're kinda beautiful though." John says suddenly, like it had only just crossed his mind.

Sherlock stops walking, surprised.

 _John thought he was beautiful._

Sherlock furrowed his brows, confused at the fluttering feeling in his chest before looking back at John when he spoke again.

"That's not me being gay though." John explains. "That's me being oserb….observant." He finishes with a smile.

Sherlock grabs hold of John's arm again, pulling him the last few steps to the door. He leaves John sagging against the door as he digs for his keys.

John sways slightly before falling into Sherlock with a childish laugh.

"John." Sherlock chides, trying to get the key into the knob.

"You smell nice." John says sniffing curiously. "You always do, though."

"John!" Sherlock snapped. "People will talk!" He says turning the key and pulling them both in quickly.

He was feeling quite light-headed and just a little out of breath. It was an all together odd feeling and he didn't know how to explain it. Perhaps he was catching something.

John had pulled away a little after Sherlock's last remark and Sherlock was able to get them both up the stairs and into their flat with ease.

"Alright, John. Let's get this off." Sherlock says, tugging on the jacket until John's brain caught up and pulled it off throwing it onto the floor clumsily.

Sherlock helped John up the stairs and into his room, pulling back the covers while John worked on taking off his shoes.

Sherlock pulled the covers over John and turned to leave when John shot his hand out, circling Sherlock's wrist.

"You know, I care too." John said, his eyes wide and earnest. "The other day you said it and I didn't, but I do care. You're my best friend."

Sherlock could feel the fluttering sensation in his chest again.

John was looking up at him so earnestly, still griping tightly onto Sherlock's wrist and whatever was happening in Sherlock's chest was now traveling to his abdomen.

Pulling his arm free, Sherlock made his way out of John's room and into his room without a word.

He did not sleep.

/

"I am never drinking that much again! I can't even remember how I got home." John calls out as he enters the kitchen the next morning. "I assume you took care of that. Thanks."

"It was nothing." Sherlock answers dismissively. "I've made tea. Also there is a bottle of paracetamol on the counter." Sherlock says looking up from his chair.

"Thanks." John answers with a smile, then winces at the pain it caused before turning towards the counter.

Sherlock sat, turning his thoughts over in his head.

It had taken exactly thirty-seven minutes for that strange feeling to go away last night.

He felt fine this morning, so he was obviously not coming down with some illness.

It wasn't guilt again. He had felt that just days ago.

This was different.

Either way, Sherlock was intent on holding off on the plan for today.

He had learned quite a bit last night and he was honestly in no mood for plotting and scheming today.

That was until John's phone rang.

"Hello?" John answered.

" _Hi. It's Emily."_ Came the shy reply.

"Emily. Hi." John answered politely.

" _I got your message and I feel like an idiot. I'm sorry I just assumed-"_

"Hey, it's in the past." John interrupted, reassuringly.

" _I'm glad. I was hoping you were still free to show me around a little. Maybe we could have dinner after-wards?"_ Emily asks, hopeful.

"That sounds lovely, Emily." John answered, quite happily.

" _Great. I'll text you my address. Is tonight alright? Around six?"_

"Absolutely. See you then." John says, smiling.

" _Bye."_

John was smiling like an idiot and it was grating on Sherlock's nerves.

This ' _Emily_ ' was only marginally attractive as per common social standards.

A seven at best.

And her intelligence level was on par with Anderson.

Why was John swooning over her?

It was absolutely irritating.

"What?" John asked and Sherlock realized he was staring at him, probably quite grimly.

"Nothing." Sherlock answered, turning his attention back to the morning's paper.

"So, I'm going out tonight." John says after a moment. "With Emily."

Sherlock frowned.

John hadn't even checked with him first. What if they had a case? What if Sherlock had needed him for something this evening?

"What about our work, John?" Sherlock asks irritably.

" _Work_?" John asks confused. "We don't even have a case right now. If we did you would have woken me."

"But we could." Sherlock answers seriously. "Lestrade could call at any moment with one."

John looks at Sherlock strangely for a moment before shaking his head.

"Yes. Well, I'm going to go on the assumption that since you nor I posses the ability to read minds or foresee the future, that we do not have a case." He says, exasperated.

"Fine. Go out." Sherlock says.

 _He had to do something._

That woman was just waiting to pull John into her bed.

 _Perhaps he could make John cancel._ _Better yet, have John think it was_ _his choice. That would insure no future lectures from John about 'boundaries' and such non sense. Hearing that particular speech was enough the first time, though John seemed to find any manner of reason in repeating it._

Sherlock lifts himself from his chair only to stagger back and fall back into it once more.

He can see John watching him cautiously from the corner of his eye.

"What was that? Are you alright?" John asks, leaning forward in his arm chair.

"It's nothing." Sherlock answers, trying his best to sound sickly. "Just feeling a bit faint. I must be ill."

"What?" John asks.

"Ill, John!" Sherlock snaps. "Must I spell it out for you?" He asks gruffly.

John stands and makes his way over to Sherlock.

He gently places a hand onto Sherlock's forehead.

"No fever." He says as gives Sherlock a once over. "Your pulse is fine as well. You're skin isn't pallid. You seem to be in good health." John says, standing.

"Believe what you want, John." Sherlock says stubbornly. Maybe pretending to be sick wasn't the smartest thing when you live with a doctor. "You go out on your date. Just leave me here." He says, changing tactics.

John just studies Sherlock a moment before speaking.

"I get the feeling you don't want me to go out." He says, giving Sherlock a knowing look.

"Non-sense!" Sherlock scoffs.

"Fine. Don't tell me anything." John says, getting up and walking towards his room.

Damn! This was not working in Sherlock's favor.

He needed something better…..something…. _.oh_!

"Relapse." He calls out and John freezes, turning back into the living room.

"Relapse?" John asks, confused.

Sherlock nodded once, looking gravely at John.

"I fear that I may be headed for a relapse, John." Sherlock answered, pausing for good effect while taking in John's worried gaze. "The addiction has to strong a hold over me today. I feel as though I must have it." Sherlock adds, adding a slight quiver in his voice for effect.

John, who had now walked fully back into the living room, stepped in front of Sherlock, meeting his eyes and searching.

Sherlock employed his best earnest expression.

After only a moment, John frowned, leaning back.

"You're lying." He states simply.

Sherlock was slightly taken aback.

How could John be so sure?

"What? No I'm not." He answers a little testily.

"Yes you are." John replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You're doing that look."

"What look?" Sherlock asks, honestly curious.

"You know the one I mean." John gruffed, his frown lines deepening. "Trying to look all innocent. It's the same look you gave me before you thought you had drugged me during that god forsaken Hound case." John complained irritably.

"Non-sense!" Sherlock answered standing sharply, feigning outrage.

"I am feeling a craving for cocaine and without your presence I may succumb!" Sherlock let's his words settle over John for a moment before turning his back towards him. "I'll just let your conscious decide."

He can hear the sound of John's footsteps leaving the room once more.

 _Good._

Perhaps his final words had been enough to make John feel guilty for leaving him.

"Tell you what, Sherlock." John starts, sounding slightly angry...and that can't be right. John was supposed to be feeling bad, not angry.

"I'm going to go have a shower. You can work on your lying skills while I'm gone." He says, pulling open the bathroom door roughly.

" _Hmph!_ " Sherlock huffs indignantly as he throws himself onto the sofa, facing away from John and his studying gaze.

John, however, pauses at the door and Sherlock turns his head slightly to find John looking at him with disappointment.

"Or, you know, you could always be honest with me. I thought I had earned that right." John says in a low voice before closing the door behind him.

 _Damn John and his normally useless lack of observation!_

Sherlock's plan was falling apart at the seams.

John wanted honesty.

"Ugh!" Sherlock groans a loud.

 _Sod this!_

 _Sod this whole bloody plan!_

Sherlock was not going to be coerced into anything by _John Watson._

 _F_ _riend or not_.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"So, you've taken to pouting, then." John comments as he walks out of the bathroom freshly showered and dressed.

"I don't know what you, mean." Sherlock says without turning from his curled up position on the sofa. He wouldn't give John the satisfaction of anything more.

"Of course not." He hears John say as he takes a seat in his chair pulling out a book.

Sherlock waits. John is sure to say something soon. He won't leave things as they are. He hates when they argue.

A half hour later and Sherlock is still waiting.

He didn't understand.

John should be making him tea by now, trying everything excuse he could think of to get Sherlock to talk to him.

But there John sat, Sherlock saw as he turned to regard him, reading his stupid bloody book, without a care as if whether or not Sherlock would ever speak to him again.

This wouldn't do if he was to stick with the time margin for his plan.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, as they say.

While Sherlock found what he was about to do quite tedious and utterly insufferable, he saw no other route given John's stubbornness in this.

"I'm sorry." He says getting an immediate reaction from John. "I lied." He adds, turning on the sofa to face a slightly shocked John.

John schools his features carefully before speaking.

"Why did you?"

Sherlock thought for a moment.

When engaging in a lie it was always imperative to involve as much truth in it as you could.

Aside from that, the truth in this case would undoubtedly appeal to John's sentimental nature and work in his favor.

"I enjoy your company." He says making sure to give John a genuine look. "It's dreadfully boring when you're not around."

He can see John's expression warming and Knows that he chose the right wording.

"I enjoy you're company also, Sherlock, but I do have other obligations sometimes. Other friends." He says giving Sherlock an indulgent smile.

It would seem that Sherlock would have to take this a step further.

Vulnerability was sure to affect John.

"I don't." He answered making his voice sound small. "You are the only person that's ever been able to put up with me."

He watches as John's smile falls from his face.

"I don't put up with you, Sherlock." He says almost just as soft before giving Sherlock a small smile. "I like spending time with you."

"Really?" Sherlock asks, sounding unsure and he see's the affect it has on John.

"Absolutely. In fact, I honestly have a better time with you than anyone of my other friends." john says reassuringly as if Sherlock is a child in need of cheering up.

Sherlock refrains from grimacing, just barely.

"Listen, why don't we have lunch out? My treat." John asks a moment later and Sherlock smiles.

If things worked out like this all day, he would have that woman out of the picture soon enough.

"Alright." He answers immediately.

/

"I've never been here." Sherlock says as walk over to the hostess who shows them to a table immediately.

Hmm.

A table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Low lighting. The hostess thought they were on a date it seemed.

"It's good. I promise." John says giving him a smile as he sits down opposite of Sherlock.

John must not have noticed or he would have been pitching quite a fit.

"This is nice. We should make more time to just hang out, without work involved." John says after the waitress takes their orders, with a smile, spreading his hands along the table cloth.

"I agree." Sherlock answers in turn with his own smile.

/

They had long finished their meal, John his dessert, and they were both sipping absently at their coffees as Sherlock shared yet another embarrassing story about his brother.

"And that was the first time Mycroft employed stress eating. Had a whole cake devoured with in five minutes." Sherlock finished. "It was quite a disgusting thing to behold. Hilarious though."

"Oh my God!" John said before bursting out laughing once again. Sherlock found himself smiling in response. "I will never be able to look at your brother's face again without laughing!"

"You have a nice laugh." Sherlock says before he can really even think about it. John stops laughing and gives Sherlock a shy smile.

 _Interesting._

Sherlock hadn't meant to say it but it had seemed to work in his favor so he continues his thought.

"It always makes me feel rather content."

John smile gets a little bigger at that.

"Same to you, though you don't laugh nearly enough." He replies after a moment. "Or smile for that matter."

"More coffee?" The waitress offers with an indulgent, knowing smile.

It seems the waitress is under the impression that they are 'an item' as well. John looks over to her and Sherlock can tell that he notices this as well but instead of his usual over the top reaction he just smiles.

"We're fine, thanks." He answers for the both of them before turning back to Sherlock not at all bothered.

Sherlock was so busy trying to figure John's reaction out that he almost didn't hear him speak.

"You really should, though." John says.

"I should what?" Sherlock asks blankly.

 _Had he missed something that John had said?_

"Smile more often. You have a great smile. Makes you look very approachable. Let's people see how great you are." John is smiling a little sheepishly when he says this, his cheeks a little pink.

 _Embarrassment_ , Sherlock's mind supplies though he's more focused on the strange feeling emanating from his chest at John's words.

"You'd probably make more friends if you did. You wouldn't even need me anymore." He says and the feeling goes away completely, replaced with a tightening in his stomach that Sherlock finds more than a little uncomfortable.

"Excuse me. I need the wash room." Sherlock says, standing a little to quickly.

"I'll just settle the bill then." John says seemingly unaware of whatever state Sherlock's in before he makes his retreat.

/

John calls the waitress over, handing her a few bills, before standing to leave.

As he's pushing his chair back under the table he notices a folded piece of paper on Sherlock's seat.

He must have dropped it. John thinks as he bends to pick it up.

He quickly puts it in his pocket. He'll give it to him back at the flat.

Sherlock comes out of the restaurant a couple of minutes later and John hails them a cab.

"Listen, if you really don't want me to go out tonight, I can reschedule with Emily." John says looking over at Sherlock who had become strangely quiet. "We could spend the day together."

"No." Sherlock answers, turning to him and giving him a small smile. "You are looking forward to seeing her. I was being selfish." He says before turning back towards his window.

"Alright, then." John answers, ignoring the strange disappointment that Sherlock's answer caused.

/

"What are you writing about?" He hears Sherlock say from close behind him and he turns to see Sherlock hunched over behind him staring at the laptop screen.

"Just catching up on the blog." John answers turning back towards his work. "I hadn't put up the last two cases."

"Quite a large number of visitors." Sherlock comments before walking over to his chair.

"Yes." John answers typing away.

After a moment Sherlock speaks again, startling John a bit.

"Why do people want to read about our lives?" He asks curiously.

Sherlock really didn't seem to know just how interesting he was.

"Not _'ours'_ , yours." John answers.

"Why _my_ life?" Sherlock asks and he sounds bewildered. John just chuckles.

"Because you are infinitely interesting." He replies with a smile. Sherlock stares at him a moment before looking back down and John takes that as his que to start typing again.

"Did _you_ think I was interesting when we first met?" Sherlock asks and John stops typing and turns in his chair towards Sherlock.

"Yeah, of course." He answers immediately, then gives another chuckle. "Though, I also thought that you were a little psychotic, but yeah, definitely interesting."

"You thought I was a psychopath and you still moved in with me?" Sherlock replies and he looks a little stunned.

"I thought it would make for an exciting change of pace in my life." John says, smiling at his friend.

"And I needed something to put in my blog." He adds jokingly, smiling and he can see Sherlock smile in return.

"Ah. Your true motive reveals itself." He says knowingly.

John turns back to his blog and finishes up one two stories before he shuts the lid.

"I'm going to go get ready for my date." He says even though he knew Sherlock wouldn't respond. He had gotten in to his thinking pose ten minutes ago.

After a shower and the thirty minutes it took him to choose an out fit, it was almost time for him to leave.

Riffling through his earlier discarded trousers for his wallet and keys, he feels the piece of paper he picked up in the restaurant.

He had forgotten to give it back before.

Holding it in his hand he had to admit he was a little curious what it could be.

John unfolded it. It was probably some old notes or results from an experiment.

John stared for a moment as he read the words.

 _What?_

He read it again and then a third time.

' _How to get John to love me'_ was scrawled across the top, different idea's underneath, some crossed out, some with check marks beside them.

Things like _'compliment him'_ or _'share parts of yourself.'_

' _Initiate physical contact'_ had a large question mark beside of it-and what the bloody hell was John reading?

John could feel his face heat up when he read the words _'seduce him'_ written hurriedly in Sherlock's surprisingly elegant handwriting.

 _What did this mean?_

 _Did Sherlock-_

He had to be. That was the only explanation.

Sherlock _loved him_ and he wanted John to….love him in return.

 _But he couldn't._ Sherlock didn't feel things that way.

John glanced back down at the last line again. 'seduce him.'

 _Did that mean that Sherlock wanted John to be sexually interested in him?_

 _Did Sherlock want to have sex with him?_

The timer on his phone went off causing John to stutter.

Shit! It was time for his date.

John shoved the paper into his pocket and made his way down stairs.

Sherlock looked up at his entrance and John looked away hurriedly. He could feel himself flushing and he cursed himself silently.

"Umm...I'm gonna just" John starts, trying to look back over at his friend but failing. "head out now."

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asks mildly concerned.

"Yes." John says around a fake laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm great." He makes his way to the entrance. "Just great." He says opening the door.

"Right." Sherlock replies uncaring and John finds himself turning towards him before he can stop himself.

"Sh-Sherlock?" He asks, wanting to flee but curiosity getting the better of him.

There must be some other explanation for it. Sherlock didn't-

"Yes, John?" Sherlock answers, startling John.

"I-" He starts, knowing what he wants to ask but not really knowing how to phrase it. "Do you..." He starts again looking at his friend.

Sherlock is looking back a little impatiently but there is no secret longing in his expression.

Nothing hidden beneath his mild irritation at John's fumbling.

"Um, never-mind." John says quickly, heading out of the door.

/

Dinner had not gone as smoothly as John had wished.

He was preoccupied the entire time and he could tell that Emily noticed.

He had even caught himself blushing more than a few times when he thought of the paper that was currently in his pocket.

It was absolutely embarrassing.

Emily had been a trooper throughout the dinner though.

At the end of the date, She had even kissed him shyly and invited him up for coffee.

John had wanted to go up. Really, he had.

Emily was beautiful, with the slight flush on her cheeks and full lips, but John couldn't get the thought of that damn paper out of his head.

She was looking up at him hopefully and John knew for a fact that he he took her up on her offer, he would be spending the night.

If only he could clear his head.

John looked into her brown, dazed eyes but all he could see was the sharp steel blue eyes of his flatmate.

His partner.

His _best friend_ and _why was this happening?_

Knowing that his mind was in a weird place and not wanting to mess things up with Emily, he excused himself, saying he had an early morning and made his way home.

He should confront Sherlock.

Clear this whole mess up.

As soon as he thought it he knew he wouldn't.

 _How could he?_

' _Oh, hello Sherlock. I found a note you dropped and I was just wondering how long you've wanted to shag me?'_

 _No._

That wasn't the sort of thing you went around asking another bloke.

Especially an emotionally stunted person like Sherlock.

It was probably nothing.

A joke or something.

Sherlock barely managed to qualify as a human where his feelings were concerned. He didn't have it in him to feel that way about anyone, least of all John.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"You're back early." Sherlock says looking up from his microscope as John drudges into the sitting room after removing his Jacket and hanging it haphazardly on the hook next to Sherlock's.

"Yes. I was feeling kind of tired." John answers falling into his chair with a long sigh.

"You should rest then." Sherlock comments, moving towards the stove top. "Tea?"

"Oh, sure. Thanks." John says, though he still can't look Sherlock in the eye quite yet.

He had walked around aimlessly for a while after he had left Emily's trying to clear his head.

He didn't know why this was bothering him so much.

Even if Sherlock felt... _he didn't..._ but if he did, why should _John_ be the one going crazy over it?

John wasn't the one harboring totally inappropriate feelings for his flatmate and scrawling down notes on how to 'seduce' said flatmate on secret pieces of paper and then just dropping them carelessly, turning that flatmates life upside down in an instant.

 _No,_ he shouldn't be feeling weird about this at all.

The fact was, it didn't matter.

 _John was straight._

He was not harboring feelings of any kind.

This was _Sherlock's problem._

Just then Sherlock walked into the room holding the steaming mug of tea out for John.

The movement had Sherlock's dressing gown sliding down his bare shoulder, revealing pale skin.

John swallowed, retching his eyes away from the smooth looking skin, and grabbed the mug- _and did he really just think to himself that Sherlock's skin looked smooth?_

This whole thing had messed up John's thought process, that's all.

 _Not gay._

John blew on his tea before taking a sip deciding then and there that he would head straight to bed after he was finished and when he woke tomorrow, this would all be like a really dreadful, really fucking weird dream.

"You look quite flustered John. Are you feeling under the weather?" Sherlock's voice invades his thought's and he has to steady his hand so that he doesn't spill the hot liquid into his lap.

"What? No. Just had a bit more wine than usual tonight." John says, cursing himself again inwardly.

"I see." Sherlock answered, satisfied and sat opposite of him in his own chair.

When Sherlock started reading, John snuck another look at him.

 _Could he really feel those things for John?_

He had never expressed any interest in anyone, male or female in all the time John had known him.

He had thought that maybe Sherlock had feelings for Irene Adler at one time, but Sherlock had shut that theory down right when it had come out of John's mouth.

When they had first met, Sherlock had said that he wasn't interested in _boyfriends or girlfriends,_ that he was ' _married_ ' to his work.

John couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock had always been this way.

 _Had he never had a relationship?_

 _Had he ever even had sex?_

"Sherlock?" John asked, shocking himself. He hadn't meant to actually ask.

"Hmm?" Sherlock replied, not looking up from his book.

"Have you-" John starts against his better judgment. Sherlock _**had**_ told him that he could ask him anything not even a week ago. "I mean, you must have..." He tries again, at a total loss as to how to ask.

"I must have what?" Sherlock replies, closing his book and looking over at John curiously.

"Um...well..." John starts again, unnaturally uncomfortable under Sherlock's gaze.

"Your fidgeting is quite bothersome, John. Ask what you want to ask." Sherlock says when John pauses just a little to long.

"A girlfriend." John gets out just barely. _God, he was rubbish at this_. "Or a boyfriend….that is have you-"

"You want to know if I've ever been romantically involved with anyone." Sherlock finishes for him sounding just a little irritated.

"Yes." John answers, relieved that Sherlock got what he was asking.

"The answer would be no. Never really held my interest." Sherlock says in dismissal before opening his book once again.

John swallows down the last of his tea and he knows that he should just get up and head off to bed but he's so curious.

"What about….one night stands? Things of that sort." He asks, watching Sherlock toss his book onto the coffee table before looking his way again.

"You mean sex." He deadpans.

"I...yes." John says feeling more than a little scrutinized.

"Why are you interested in this all of a sudden?" Sherlock asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"I'm not!" John says a little flustered. "I just-"

Sherlock's phone rings causing them both to look towards the end table where it sat before Sherlock reached for it, answering.

"Lestrade. I take it you need assistance?" Sherlock answered as he stood, walking into the kitchen.

After a moment he comes back through, smile firmly in place.

"A case, John! It's been days!" He says exuberantly.

"Let's stow away the excitement before we get to the scene, yeah?" John says as he follows Sherlock to the door grabbing his jacket.

/

"This way, freak." Donovan sneers when she see's them walking towards the house. "And his plus one." She adds at John's frown.

Sherlock ignored her, scanning the room for Lestrade.

"Sherlock, John! Over here!" He hears the D.I. call out from their left and they make their way into a small office.

Sherlock immediately huffs out an exasperated breath.

"Why is _Anderson_ here? Have I not expressed enough just how utterly useless his presence is?" He complains causing said useless prat to look up angrily.

"This is actually my profession, _freak_. You only get invited because the boss seems to think you're helpful. If you ask me, you only help because the only way you can get off is seeing mutilated corpses." He taunts.

Sherlock can feel John tense from beside him, always the protector.

Sherlock opened his mouth to make a few startling deductions of his own when Lestrade cut in.

"Enough!" He yelled, leveling a hard look Anderson's way. "Sherlock, have a look at the body."

Sherlock walked over, taking out his magnifier, taking in the scene and then the body before he stood up straight and started in on his findings.

"The killer was obviously looking for something specific. The victims pockets have been riffled through. The only area's of the home that were left in disarray are places that might hold an important document." He pauses, pointing out the mess in the room. "Files strewn about. Books thrown off of shelves, yet no jewelry or high-valued items have been disturbed."

"Sherlock, look." John calls from his crouched position at the body. "Something is missing from his wallet. The slot is stretched."

" _Hmmm._ Yes. Excellent work, John. You continually surprise me with your improving skills of deduction." Sherlock says, wondering how he had missed such a simple thing.

John is flushing slightly at his praise and Sherlock smiles to himself at the progress of his plan. Even a few days ago, John wouldn't have reacted in such a way.

"Um, it looks like maybe it could have been a folded piece of paper rather than a card given how stretched the slot is." And John's flush grows deeper, though Sherlock can't understand why.

" _Ugh!_ Do you have to do your blushing bride routine in front of us?" Donovan asks from behind them causing John to turn away from Sherlock sharply.

"Yeah, save it for the mortuary. It's probably the only way you can get him off." Anderson chimes in with a disgusted look.

"Oi, if you two are done, get back to work!" Lestrade chimes in. "Sherlock, I'll have whatever information you need sent to you."

Sherlock gives a nod, noticing that John is still very tense beside him.

"I need to know where the victim worked, as well as any hobbies he may have had. Ask the wife what his schedule was like for the last week. I'll also require a full work up of the victim. Molly Hooper should be in today. It's apparent that the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the skull, but there may be some particulates on the body that may be able to identify the killer." Sherlock says before turning towards the front door. "Come along, John." He says, though he knows John was already following him.

/

When they had gotten back to the flat last night, John had excused himself, saying he was tired.

Sherlock had let him go without questioning him.

He knew that John had been bothered by what those two idiots had said at the crime scene.

There was no reason to bring it up. That would only hinder Sherlock's progress.

He needed to keep John's mind off of it.

It seemed that John was reacting positively to Sherlock more and more each day. He simply had to keep John away from any negative sources and double his efforts. He didn't have much longer.

They were working a case right now so it would be difficult but Sherlock was very resourceful when he needed to be.

"Morning." John called, making his way into the kitchen and pouring himself some tea.

"Lestrade sent over almost everything last night." Sherlock said, forgoing the greeting entirely. "It looks like Mr. Weston had been involved in a recent lawsuit."

"Oh?" John asks taking a seat at the kitchen table next to Sherlock.

"One against the Pharmaceutical company he managed. The company was accused of cutting corners to get a certain medication on the market which led to the deaths of eight children."

"So what? You're thinking one of the parents are responsible maybe?" John asks.

"Possibly. Lestrade is getting all of their names. Though if one of the parents are involved, it stands to reason that they may be going after all of the employee's involved with the drug. Perhaps the folded document from his wallet contained information on those involved." Sherlock said, thinking aloud. "We'll just have to wait on Lestrade."

John hummed into his mug in answer.

Sherlock, now done explaining the new information, looked John over.

He was no longer tense around Sherlock, but he had dark circles under his eyes.

He hadn't slept well.

"How did you sleep?" Sherlock asked, wondering what John would say.

John turned to him with a tired smile.

"Terribly. How was your night of not sleeping?" He countered.

"Terribly boring." Sherlock replied.

John wasn't upset, but he was closed off. Sherlock couldn't have John back-tracking through all his progress.

"Of course, if you had stayed awake, I'm quite sure that my night would have been anything but boring." Sherlock says and has to stifle a laugh when John chokes on his tea, coughing it up all over his shirt and the table.

Sherlock leans over to pat him on the back but his phone rings.

"Lestrade." He says in John's direction before he answers.

"Sherlock. I'm sending you the names of the families in the law suit. As for the employee's involved, only two others were working on this drug. Dr. Joyce Raynor and Dr. Stephen Sanders. I'll text you there information."

"Alright." Sherlock says hanging up.

John looked to have recovered from his choking episode and Sherlock smiled remembering it before relaying the information.

"It looks like we have two more potential victims. Care to check it out?"

John looks as though he may actually decline for a moment before he stands.

"Sure...Let's go."

/

They decided to check out Dr. Sanders home first.

His home was almost as large as Mycroft's, with a locked iron gate. Attached was a buzzer and Sherlock pressed it sharply.

"Yes?" Came an older woman's voice.

"Hi. I am Sherlock Holmes. I am with my associate John Watson. We are working with the police on a matter that Dr. Sanders may be involved in. May we come in and speak with him?" Sherlock asks as politely as he can.

He can see John rolling his eyes beside him and he elbows him in the side in mock anger.

John smiles and shoves him back playfully and Sherlock finds himself smiling back.

"I'm sorry Mr. Holmes" The woman says and breaking the moment. "Dr. Sanders is away for a medical conference over seas. He's not expected back for another week."

"Thank you for your time." Sherlock says and John snorts.

Sherlock fixes John with a glare that they both know is fake before turning back towards their waiting cab.

Once their inside Sherlock speaks.

"That leaves us with only one potential victim."

"Dr. Raynor." John says as Sherlock gives the cabby the address.

/

Sherlock rings the door bell a few times and they wait.

Nothing.

"Maybe she's not in?" John suggests.

Sherlock kneels In front of the door and pulls out his lock picking set.

It takes only a moment before they are inside the flat.

Sherlock takes in their surroundings quickly.

"No signs of anyone leaving in a hurry, or a struggle." He says to John quietly. "Fruit in the dish on the table suggests she was here yesterday at least."

"Maybe she's at work?" John asks.

"No. Her schedule is on the counter. She has off today." Sherlock answers, scanning the remainder of the room.

"She could be out with a friend. Or doing the shopping." John supplies walking around the kitchen table to meet up with Sherlock.

"Perhaps. Either way-" The sound of the back door knob jiggling has Sherlock tensing.

"Someone's coming!" Sherlock whispers, though John has already heard it as well.

Looking around frantically, Sherlock see's a closet right off from the kitchen and grabs John's arm.

" _Over here!"_ Sherlock whispers harshly, pulling John into the closet just as the back door opened.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

" _Over here!_ " Sherlock whispers harshly, pulling John into the closet just as the back door opened.

Closing the door just in time, Sherlock and John maneuver themselves into the tiny, cramped closet.

They freeze, straining to listen as who they assumed was Dr. Raynor made her way through the front door.

A pained grunt from Sherlock causes John's eyes to snap up to his face, making out a slight grimace as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around them.

" _What is it?"_ John whispers, concerned.

Sherlock shakes his head, grimace still in place.

After a moment John hears Sherlock let out an annoyed huff.

Opening his mouth, John starts to ask what is wrong, when Sherlock steps forward, crowding John into the other side of the closet.

" _Sorry._ " Sherlock whispers, his breath puffing out hot against John's face and he tenses. "Something was stabbing my back." He explains quietly, his body moving forward again, now closing the space between them.

John shifts, flattening himself against the wall to give them both some more room, but there's no space left. 

Quite suddenly, Sherlock's long, slender finger's grab hold of John's his hip and he can't help but tense further. 

He could feel Sherlock's body heat seeping into his own skin already, where his lean frame is pressed against John's.

Realistically, John knows that Sherlock is probably just trying to keep his balance, after all hadn't he decided that the note he found was nothing?

None of this stopped his heart hammering in his chest, however. 

John shifted, trying desperately to adjust his position, when a sound from the other side of the door had him holding still.

" _Shhh_." Sherlock whispered, leaning slightly forward, his mouth leaning closer to John's ear so he could speak low and not be heard outside the door.

John squeezed his eyes closed at the feel of heated breath on his ear and neck and his own breath started to come quicker causing him to suck in a strangled breath.

" _Quiet._ " Sherlock says, hot breath fanning sensitive skin, lips brushing lightly against his ear as Sherlock speaks to him in a hushed tone. 

_John could feel his whole body heat up._

His mind was betraying him, reminding him of the note once again, at the fact that Sherlock had every intention of seducing him at some point.

John let out another shuddering breath.

His body was hyper aware of every little thing, focusing in on all the places where Sherlock's body was touching his.

John struggled to regain his control.

 _This was absolutely insane._

He didn't feel this way about Sherlock.

 _Not gay,_ he thinks to himself gain.

It was just the closeness of their bodies playing tricks on his mind.

He just needed to keep it together until they could get out this god-forsaken closet.

Sherlock's fingers twitched at his hip and John's entire body screamed for something to rub against, for release.

 _God, he wished he could_ _do just that._

That he had a woman under him... _Emily maybe._

 _Then he could…._

Reality invaded him as Sherlock moved slightly and John was struck with the realization that he was pressed up in a tiny closet with another man... _Sherlock_... and he was absolutely hard, the worn material of his over worn trousers tented obscenely.

Panic washed over him, making his heart pound so loud he could barely hear.

 _Please don't say you feel anything, please don't say you feel anything._ _  
_

John shifted his hips as far to the side as he could which caused Sherlock to loose his footing slightly and he grabbed both of John's hips to steady himself, which in turn brought John's erection into direct contact with Sherlock's thigh.

John stilled in his terror, panting in breaths as he closed his eyes, and bit his lip.

 _Oh no! oh_ _fuck!_

Sherlock can _feel_ _it._

 _Feel his arousal right there against his leg._

But he wasn't saying anything.

He wasn't moving away, or trying to anyway.

 _Did that mean that Sherlock really did want him?_

John squeezed his eyes shut harder, his teeth biting his lip so hard, the color drained from the tender flesh.

 _N_ _o._ Sherlock couldn't…...and _he couldn't._

 _He didn't._

His erection just hadn't caught up yet.

John pushed his hips back a little, trying to move far enough away that his erection wasn't pressing hard into Sherlock's thigh, but Sherlock abruptly pulled him back causing his erection to slide against him roughly and searing heat bolted through him.

" _Be still!_ " Sherlock whispered harshly, annoyed, but John could barely hear over ringing in his ears.

This whole situation was making him crazy with thought's of him and Sherlock. Of straddling his naked body as he took what he wanted making Sherlock squirm underneath him, loose control.

 _And where in the bloody hell was all this coming from?_

He hadn't meant for this. He'd never even thought about it.

 _Sherlock….._ _like this._

He had to get a hold of himself, he really did.

 _Not gay, not gay, not gay._

John chanted in his head repeatedly.

He needed to get out of here so that he could suppress this whole situation.

He would pretend that his horrible experience had never happened and everything would go back to normal.

Sherlock's mouth slid up to his ear once more as he spoke in hushed tones.

" _I don't think it's Dr. Raynor._ " He whispers and John squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to fight the urge to turn his face and kiss Sherlock.

" _The steps are_ _much_ _too heavy. This is a man_." Sherlock says.

And _God_ …..the sound of his voice, the heat of those lips, his warm breath, sends unexpected ripples of pleasure through John's body. 

Sherlock moves away from John's ear, his lips sliding along the edge and John feels himself twitch against Sherlock's thigh.

Another loud noise is heard from near by, then the sound footsteps that sound even closer.

Sherlock's hands instinctively close tighter around John's hips and that little spark of pain does nothing to help his situation.

" _Oh God_..." John whispers out a little loudly as Sherlock's mouth brushes against his ear again.

" _John…. you must be quiet._ " Sherlock whispers. " _Do you have your gun?"_ He asks and John can feel the words slide against his ear.

John swallows hard and nods when another noise has them both frozen.

The footsteps have stopped it seems directly in front of them now.

Sherlock tenses against him and John looks at him, ready to follow his lead, though, how scarey this guy is going to find him jumping out of a closet with a raging hard-on might pose a problem.

Sherlock looks from the door to John.

His cheeks are flushed a soft shade of pink, his eyes wide and lips parted as his breaths pants out against John's face.

He can hear Sherlock's heavy breaths coming quickly and it makes him dizzy.

He knows it's from adrenaline, the fear of getting caught, but his mind keeps supplying him with other scenarios in which Sherlock would look and sound this way.

John closed his eyes as the images assaulted him.

Sherlock spread out naked on his bed, same flushed cheeks, same harsh breathing, same wide eyes and parted lips, loosing control as John fucked into him…..

John couldn't help the whimper that was pulled from him at the image.

 _Fuck_ _._.. he sounded so wrecked….. _so needy_ and Sherlock was looking right at him now, taking it all in. 

"John-" Sherlock whispers and John closes his eyes at the sound of his name falling from those lips.

 _They had looked so soft._

He could do it. He knew he could.

See for himself just how soft they were, what kind of noises Sherlock would make when he licked into that mouth.

 _All he had to do was tilt his head, ever so slightly and…._

"He's gone!" Sherlock says loudly as they both hear the slam of a door. 

John blinks a couple of times, reality settling in, before scrambling backward, swinging open the door and getting as far away from Sherlock as he could.

/

 _Well, that had definitely been informative_ , Sherlock thought turning onto his back on the worn sofa.

Apparently John had in fact begun to feel a sexual attraction to him. It had been embarrassingly obvious in that broom closet.

And if John was sexually attracted to him, it only stood to reason that he had to have romantic feelings for his as well, if not love.

Sherlock frowned when another thought invaded him.

John being aroused in the broom closet could have been just a physiological response due to there close proximity.

In fact, Sherlock himself had been mildly affected.

There had been no sentiment or desire involved. It was a normal human response to such a situation and his body, just like any one else, had reacted.

Just because John had become extremely aroused, did not mean he was experiencing feelings of love.

He would have to watch John for more signs.

Stick to the plan.

Sherlock huffed.

 _If_ John ever left the confines of his bedroom again, that is.

/

It had been almost seven hours before John got hungry enough to leave the safety of his bedroom.

When he had shot out of that closet, he had hailed his own cab and rushed to baker street where he made a bee-line to his room.

Sherlock had come home an hour later, but he hadn't come to John's door.

John had refused to deal with his erection.

It had taken a good hour and a half, but eventually it had flagged.

When he had left his room, Sherlock had been sprawled out on the sofa. He hadn't acknowledged John at all.

The next couple of days were much the same.

It wasn't as if Sherlock was ignoring him or angry, he was merely giving John space.

Perhaps he had read the need on John's face, either way John was absolutely grateful.

John was in his chair at present, Sherlock playing his violin on the far side of the room by the window.

He looked almost ethereal, his pale skin slightly illuminated by the setting sun beams coming in through the window, contrasting beautifully with the deep elegant blue of his dressing gown.

John lowered his eyes as soon as he realized what he was thinking.

He couldn't stop…. _noticing things_ …..about Sherlock he had never noticed before.

Like how Sherlock's eyes changed color with no rhyme or reason, how long and slender his fingers were, how every inch of his skin that John could find was flawless, or how every piece of clothing he owned fit on his body like a second skin, accentuating his long, slender form.

 _Ever since that bloody closet…_.

 _No._

Ever since he had found that piece of paper and had found out that Sherlock my be interested in him.

 _God!_

 _Why was this happening to him?_

 _He liked women, Damn't!_

He wanted to settle down one day.

Meet a nice woman, get married. Have children.

Maybe even a dog, for goodness sakes.

 _He wanted all of that._

It's what he had always envisioned for himself.

Never not once had his vision of the future involved pining for his friend.

 _His very male friend._

It was complete bullocks that he was feeling this way.

He had no business having a bloody sexual identity crisis at his age.

The kicker was that he had never looked twice at another bloke before. _Not ever._

Not even now.

 _Just Sherlock._

It was all he could think about now and it was driving him mad.

Because it wasn't just that he was attracted to Sherlock, no.

It wasn't that simple.

No. _He cared for Sherlock._

They were best friends.

Flatmates, partners.

He would give his life for Sherlock in a heart beat.

Add all that to this new desire that's seemed to pop out of the wood work and it felt a lot like _love._

 _And that was the real problem._

All of his ideals, all his dreams.

If he loved Sherlock, he'd never get married, never have children.

Never have normal.

He couldn't love Sherlock.

 _Not like that._

He may not be as heterosexual as he had always assumed, but he was definitely _NOT_ in love with Sherlock Holmes.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lestrade had called moments ago.

Sherlock had been able to narrow down the likely suspect to two of the suspected parents.

Lestrade was bringing them in within the next couple of hours.

Sherlock had insisted on being the one to question them and Lestrade had reluctantly agreed and said he would text them when the suspects were in custody.

Sherlock, excited as ever, had shot into his room directly after the call, returning a few minutes later in one of his expensive suits, looking immaculate as usual.

John tried not to notice the way his pale blue dress shirt clung to his chest tightly or the fact that Sherlock always left the top two buttons undone.

"John?" Sherlock called and John retched his eyes away from his friends chest looking up nervously.

"Yes?" He asks, voice a little off.

Sherlock doesn't seem to notice.

"I was thinking that we might have dinner out of the flat today once we're finished at the yard, if you're not opposed?" He asks making his way through the sitting room.

"No, no. Sounds good." John answered, his voice sounding a little more normal.

"Excellent. There is a new place I've been meaning to try, by the park." Sherlock says as he rummages through a few stray papers on his desk.

"The one that just opened?" John asks a little surprised. The place in question wasn't somewhere two mates would go to have dinner. It was a place you'd take a date. Somewhere intimate. "Isn't it a bit too..." John started but paused. So what if the place had an intimate feel to it. They had never adhered to the traditional ways of friendship so why should they now? And if John was being honest, he sort of wanted this to be a date. Sherlock obviously had some sort of feelings for him, why else would he have written that list? John had to admit that the possibility for more between them wasn't quite as off putting as it should be to him. In fact it was something he had been thinking more and more about for a while now.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, looking John's way now, a hint of concern in his voice.

"No." John answered smiling. "I'd love to have dinner there with you."

Sherlock looked back to his papers with a smile.

"It's just as well. I already made the reservation, after all."

"Of course you would have." John said, answering smile plastered on his face.

/

It had taken almost an hour, but Sherlock had finally got one of the parents to confess. Lestrade had herded them into his office shortly after, threatening no more cases if Sherlock didn't fill out his paper work then and there.

Sherlock hadn't put up much of a fight after that.

John was sat beside Sherlock, who was bent over the desk, pen in hand pointedly ignoring the dirty looks from Anderson and the disapproving ones of Donovan. Really, did those two have nothing better to do than stick their noses into his and Sherlock's business?

John makes small talk with Lestrade for a few minutes before the D.I. excuses himself when his phone goes off, motioning for Donovan to join him.

Boredly, John turns his attentions back on Sherlock. He would never be bored enough to make conversation with that wanker, Anderson.

Looking at his friend, he took a moment to really think about him. Sherlock was probably the prettiest man he had ever seen. The only man he had ever thought pretty, actually. He marveled once again at the sharp cheekbones, the perfectly shaped mouth, the stunning contrast between Sherlock's fair skin and his dark, curly locks. One curl, John noticed, which lay against his temple was currently wrapped loosely around a small brown leaf, probably having tangled up in his hair with the wind outside.

"You have-" John started, stopping when Sherlock turned to look at him, and pointed towards the offending object.

"What?" Sherlock asked quizzically, lifting his hand towards his face.

"A leaf." John answered, watching as Sherlock swiped at his hair, missing the mark a couple of times. "Just-." John says, lifting his own hand towards Sherlock's hair with a smile. "Here, let me."

Sherlock lowers his hand and John lets his fingers brush through the soft curls just a little slower than strictly necessary before plucking the leaf out. Sherlock was giving him a strange sort of look and John realized after a moment that it was probably because John had unknowingly leaned in pretty close while extracting the leaf. John lowered his hand about to turn away when Sherlock's breath brushes over his face.

"Thank you, John."

"Your welcome." John answers on auto pilot, most of his brain having brought him right back to that closet, when he and Sherlock had been pressed together so tightly, when all he could feel had been Sherlock's body plastered against his and his breath hot in his ear and on his neck. The soft glide of his lips as he had whispered softly against John's ear.

" _Oh God!_ " Came a howl of disgust that had John coming back to himself instantly.

 _Anderson._

"The blushing virgin routine was disgusting enough, but if I have to see you two eye fucking each other, I may quit my job!" He says with a sneer directed more towards Sherlock than anyone.

"And Scotland Yard would be better for it." Sherlock says, turning back to his work, uncaring.

"Watch your mouth, freak!" Anderson shouts back and John has just about had enough of that particular word. Especially after finding out that Sherlock had been called such a name even as a small child. Taking a step forward, placing himself in between Sherlock and Anderson, John frowned.

"Why do you always call him that?" He asks. They should all be bloody grateful to Sherlock for all he's done.

"What? _Freak?_ " Anderson spits out, pointing out towards Sherlock harshly. "Because that's what he is! We all know it! Even the freak himself!"

Out of the corner of his eye, John can see Sherlock stiffen slightly before schooling himself and anger hits him so strongly he's almost dizzy with it.

"Don't." John says tightly, his mouth twitching in agitation. "I'll ask you nicely not to call him that again." He finishes through gritted teeth. Anderson steps forward, shit-eating grin in place.

" _Oh?_ Did I offend the freaks boyfriend?" Anderson taunts and John doesn't even think, just swings his fist until he feels the familiar crunch of bone and blood on his knuckles.

"Aghhh!" "You- you hit me!" Anderson shouts, his hand cradling his bloody nose.

"You had fair warning." John says, the angry tension all gone with the satisfaction he was currently feeling. Sherlock had stopped writing and was looking over at him with a shocked expression, which made John even happier. He loved that he could still surprise Sherlock. That he wasn't boring.

"What's going on here?" Lestrade yells angrily before stopping dead at the sight of a bleeding Anderson.

"He attacked me!" Anderson yells, jabbing a finger in John's direction. Lestrade looks over to him in dis-belief.

"John?"

"I'm sorry, Greg." John apologizes, trying his best to sound genuine. "Lost my temper a bit."

Lestrade looks back over at Anderson once more before turning back to Sherlock and John.

"Why don't the two of you head back to the flat. I'll bring the rest of the paperwork by later."

"What? Just like that? He assaulted an officer!" Anderson screeches out in indignation and Lestrade levels him with a stern look.

"Yeah, and I'm sure your mouth had nothing to do with it."

"But-"

"Go wash your face." Lestrade says, cutting off any more protest. Anderson stalks out of the room and Lestrade looks to John his head shaking.

"Go home, boys. And maybe work on that temper of yours John. Can't have you breaking the nose of every cop in Scotland Yard that pisses you off."

/

They quickly pushed themselves into their cab when it came to a stop. John couldn't help the giddy feeling he had.

They had finished a case without anyone else dying, Anderson had been put in his place. It felt good.

"Another case closed thanks to the brilliant Sherlock Holmes." He says cheerily.

"John-" Sherlock calls glancing his way nervously. John meets his gaze and smiles.

"You were amazing, as always." He says and watches Sherlock's face light up for a moment.

"What you did back there-" Sherlock starts, his look a little unbelieving.

"You mean when I punched Anderson in the nose?" John supplies with a grin.

"I've never- nobody has ever done anything like that for me." Sherlock answers, his brow creasing. John frowned. Perhaps Sherlock hadn't wanted John to get involved. He hadn't even thought about that at the time. He should probably apologize.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I know it wasn't my place, but-"

"I am attempting to thank you, John." Sherlock cuts in and now he is smiling. Just a small smile, but it's genuine and John feels it deep in his chest.

"You never have to thank me. We're friends." John answers softly, caught up in his emotions. Sherlock smiles a little brighter at that before turning back towards his window.

After a moment John can hear the muffled sound of laughter and he turns back towards his friend.

"What's funny?" He asks and Sherlock turns as well now, his face light and happy.

"Anderson's face, after you threw that punch."

"Definitely wasn't expecting it, that's for sure." John answers, his own smile growing. "Felt damn good, though." He finishes and they both break into a fit of laughter this time.

"You're a good friend, John Watson."

"Likewise."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Dinner had been great last night. Sherlock had been so open and talkative. Smiled the entire evening.

John had felt for the first time since this whole mess that maybe it could be possible to start something more between them.

Presently, they were in the sitting room watching telly, some crime show. They were both on the sofa, each of them on their own end. John had wanted to sit a little closer but couldn't bring himself to close the space between them once he had already sat down.

Luckily Sherlock started complaining about wanting tea, so when John had come back with two mugs he had the perfect opportunity to sit a little closer to Sherlock than normal. He didn't want to push it but he wanted to see how it felt. If he was going to entertain the idea that maybe they could be more between them he needed to make certain that he truly wanted this. That the recent thoughts he'd been having, the closet, hadn't just been a fluke.

"It was the baby sitter, you idiot!" Sherlock shouted at the telly suddenly, causing John to startle slightly. Upon noticing, Sherlock turns to him worriedly. "Not good?"

"It's fine." John says smiling because this was so crazy.

This is his best friend. This is the man that could solve a murder in under five minutes. Leap across buildings chasing criminals. The same man who deleted the solar system because it wasn't important enough. And here he was, genuinely worried that he had done something John wouldn't like.

How had John not felt this before? How had he looked at Sherlock and only thought _'friend'_?

"John-" Sherlock calls and John realizes that he's been staring. God, what did his face look like right now? Sherlock was looking a little uncomfortable and John knew something must be showing.

For just a moment John entertained the thought of just telling Sherlock now, but he still needed to think this through. They were best friends and if they did this and it didn't work out it could destroy their friendship. John wasn't sure if it was worth it no matter how much he wanted it. He needed to step away from it all for now. Take some time and think before he told Sherlock anything.

"I just remembered. We need a few things from the shop." John says suddenly, thinking up excuses on the spot was not one of his strong suits. Sherlock apparently agrees because he frowns at John as he stands.

"Just now, you miraculously remembered you needed to go to the shop?" Sherlock asks and John can tell he doesn't believe him, but he needs to not be here right now.

"Yes. I'll just be off then." He says before shooting out the door quickly. If he didn't linger, Sherlock wouldn't be able to talk him into staying.

/

Sherlock was feeling…. _guilty_.

He didn't worry himself with such a thing as guilt normally. Yet here he was, feeling it quite forcefully.

He knew exactly why he was experiencing such a tedious emotion too.

 _John_.

Although, it wasn't really John's fault at all. _It was his._

Sherlock was trying to trick him, he was being dishonest, manipulating his emotions... _and it had worked._

He could see it clearly as of yesterday.

He read it in the lingering glances John sent his way, every touch that lasted just a fraction too long, every jolt in his pulse when Sherlock was near.

Sherlock should feel happy, victorious even. He had won. Beat his brother. He shouldn't be feeling this immense guilt.

John was off trying to work up his courage to tell Sherlock how he felt. Sherlock could read that much very clearly indeed. John was under the impression that he would confess and that they would somehow end up living some fairy tale romance.

He didn't know this was all a game.

He thought Sherlock loved him back, but he couldn't. He wasn't capable of loving someone, even if sometimes he wondered what it would be like.

He was a high-functioning sociopath. He didn't feel things like love.

Against all reason, however, he did feel... _something._

He felt grateful to John and content in his presence. He valued John above anyone else, missed him when he was away. He felt happy when John laughed, sad when John was down. He felt guilt when he disappointed him, much like now.

John was a loyal friend. He was the perfect partner. He had accepted Sherlock, faults and all, without hesitation. When everyone else called him freak, John called him extraordinary. He didn't mind any of Sherlock's less than amiable qualities. He always made sure Sherlock rested and ate right. He killed for him, broke bones for him, and what had Sherlock offered him in return?

Nothing. Sherlock had done nothing to deserve such a friend as John Watson.

Sherlock had used him in a twisted game with his brother. He had no right to call John 'friend.'

He thinks once again that he should never had agreed to any of this in the first place.

He should text his brother this instance and call off the whole thing. But first he would need to diffuse the situation with John.

If he told John about the deal with his brother, John would be livid, but he had to do something.

Sherlock was broken, no good.

John needed someone who could love him and make him happy.

Sherlock was selfish, unfeeling, hateful, and John was loyal and kindhearted and good.

Sherlock needed to end any lingering hope John had about him and then try to salvage their friendship.

He would just start acting like he used to, before this whole thing began.

 _Cold._

 _Distant._

He could do it, even if he had gotten used to talking with John more and spending more time with him in between cases. He could stop all off that. He could go back to being alone most of the time.

He had to if he wanted to keep John here.

/

[three hours later]

Sherlock stood abruptly as he heard the familiar sound of John climbing the steps to their flat. He needed to act before John had a chance to confess.

"You're back from the shop." Sherlock says, pointedly not commenting on the lack of groceries in John's hands. John moves forward until he is standing directly in front of Sherlock before he meets his eyes. Sherlock can read his determination clearly.

"I didn't go to the shop." John says quietly. "I was thinking."

"John-" Sherlock says, interrupting him. He needed to do or say something to deter John's confession.

"I needed to make a decision on something." John says pushing forward. "And I have." Sherlock could see it. John had made up his mind. He wanted Sherlock.

"John. There's something-" Sherlock says, hand coming up in a halting gesture. Maybe he would have to tell him. But John was having none of it.

"No. Me first, alright?" He says and he's starting to get nervous now. "I need to go first." He adds, clearing his throat.

Sherlock should turn away. He should go lock himself in his room or storm out of the flat. He shouldn't just stand there.

"Right." John says taking in a shaky breath. "So here it goes."

"I love you, Sherlock."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"I love you, Sherlock." John says shakily and it's so freeing to finally be able to say it out loud. That alone gives him the courage to continue. "In fact….I am very much in love with you as it turns out."

Sherlock drops his hand, peering at him with wide eyes. His breaths are coming slightly faster, puffing out against John's face harshly, and John is hit with the realization that he needs to kiss this man in front of him more than he needs to breath air.

Despite the utter terror coursing through him, John finds that his hands are steady as he reaches up to cup Sherlock's face, tilting Sherlock's jaw as he leans forward.

They're so close now that John can hear Sherlock's stuttering breaths and it's exhilarating. That they are here like this. That he actually had the ability to make Sherlock out of breath from just a touch.

Tearing his eyes away from perfect lips that he has been thinking about for far too long, he searches Sherlock's eyes for any indication that he should stop.

Sherlock is staring back at him, his eyes wide and pupils dilated beyond belief, but he doesn't look disgusted. He's not telling him to stop, so John finally closes the space between them to seal their lips together.

It's just a soft press of lips at first, but it feels nothing like what he's used to, and it's amazing.

John feels Sherlock tense but he makes no move to stop him, so John angles his mouth slightly across Sherlock's tightly closed lips and runs his tongue lightly over his bottom lip.

 _God_ , that felt even better than he had imagined.

Sherlock's lips part on a gasp and John presses forward, dipping his tongue inside Sherlock's mouth.

He can feel Sherlock start to tremble slightly as their tongues touch, and he slides his hands from Sherlock's face to circle tightly around him.

 _God._

 _He was kissing Sherlock._

He was kissing another man and it felt better than any kiss he had ever had with any woman.

Sherlock was unlike anyone else. It should have been obvious that kissing him would be like nothing he had felt before. That loving him wouldn't be just as intense as everything else when it came to Sherlock.

He loved this man more than he thought possible. In fact, he had never simultaneously felt so much love and so much want at the same time in his entire life.

The thought had him trembling.

John feels Sherlock shift, bringing up both hands, clutching desperately at John's shirt front, and John moans at the feel of those long fingers against his chest.

John brings his hands up around Sherlock's shoulders and slowly smooths them down Sherlock's chest, stopping to grip at his narrow hips and he can feel the slight trimmer run through Sherlock's entire body.

There was a distinct absence of soft breasts and soft curves, in it's place hard muscle and sharp hip bones. It was all Sherlock and it the very thought of that had John moaning into the kiss again.

 _God_ , he needed to feel more of him. He wanted to feel them pressed together everywhere.

John steps forward, pushing Sherlock into the wall behind them, and _yes_. That was exactly what he needed.

Abruptly Sherlock tenses, the back of his head smacking into the wall as he maneuvers his hands flat on John's chest and pushes him away.

It takes John a little longer than it should to realize what's happening, but when he does he looks up at Sherlock confused.

Sherlock is leaning against the wall shakily, his lips kiss-swollen, breath coming out harshly but when John looks into his eyes, any heat that was still lingering dies out immediately.

Sherlock wasn't just breathing heavily. He was well on his way to hyperventilating.

His eyes are unfocused, a mixture of fear and panic shining through, and John finds himself immediately stepping forward towards his friend in concern.

"Sherlock-" He calls reaching out a hand, only to retract it immediately when Sherlock backs himself further into the wall once more, huge panicked eyes now focused on John.

Backing away seemed to be the smartest action to take, so John takes a few tentative steps back.

How had he gotten it all wrong?

He had seen the signs.

The lingering touches, the closeness between them lately. Sherlock had even written out a plan to make John fall in love with him.

That more than anything had to have meant that Sherlock wanted him too.

Apparently John had been very wrong.

 _God! Had he ruined everything between them?_

When John finally works up the courage to look at Sherlock again, he thinks he just might have.

Sherlock is staring at him, eyes huge and filled with fear but mostly just hurt now and John put that expression on his face and he can't just leave it like this.

They are best friends.

John had to fix this.

For a few horrible moments the only sound John can hear is Sherlock breathing harshly and his own heart beat, doubled in his ears.

"Sherlock," he breaths through his own rising panic now. "I-"

" _Don't_." Sherlock demands sharply, his eyes turning to steel. He looks sick. " _Don't apologize."_

John feels his own stomach turn at the words and he edges even further back into the room.

"I am, Sherlock. _God. I'm_ _so sorry_." he tries, his voice sounding broken even to his own ears.

"Sorry?" Sherlock asks scathingly, lifting a shaking hand to his face. He's still trembling slightly but his breathing has calmed a little.

John can't for the life of him figure out what to say to make things alright again.

He hesitates a moment before stepping just a little closer to Sherlock once more.

"Yes. I don't know why-" John stopped. He knew exactly why he had done what he did.

For a week it had seemed like they had both been feeling the same thing, that they were both dancing around it.

John had been so sure that Sherlock-

He had been wrong though.

" _Please, Sherlock._ " John begs.

Actually begs.

"You're my best friend. I can't-" John starts again, his voice breaking. "We can fix this. Just...just delete it, Sherlock. Delete it and I'll not bring it up again. It can be like it was."

Sherlock lets out a laugh, but it sounds so wrong. He's shaking again and his legs look as though they could collapse any moment.

John reaches out on auto-pilot to steady him before he even realizes his mistake.

Sherlock jerks back slamming his head once again into the wall and John pulls his hand back like it had been set on fire. John opens his mouth to apologize once more only to find Sherlock's eyes watching him intently as if John could attack him at any given moment.

As if he didn't trust John anymore.

 _Fuc_ _k! What had he done? He had betrayed Sherlock's trust. He had ruined everything._

 _He had let his own feelings take over and he forced Sherlock into something that he couldn't take back._

John shakes his head quickly, panic rising.

He had to get out of there before he got sick all over the carpet.

Hand on the door, he pauses. He tries but he is unable to turn and look Sherlock in the eye but he can't. He just can't.

"I'm so- _God_. I'm…... I'll go." He sputters out before fleeing the flat before Sherlock could kick him out for what he'd done.

/

Sherlock hadn't moved from the wall since John left. It had been at least an hour.

 _John._

He had been seducing John for almost two weeks and all for the sake of his brothers stupid game.

He had done it to get this exact reaction, but when it happened-

Sherlock wasn't exactly sure what to make of all of the chemical and emotional responses that had rushed through his body and his mind when John had kissed him.

He could however catalog the emotion that had left him trembling and pushing John away.

It had been fear.

Ah, such a tedious human response.

And to have felt it over a kiss?

Sherlock was not by any meaning of the word experienced with basic carnal desires but he had kissed and been kissed before.

Seven times, to be precise.

Of course, five of those times, he had initiated it to further his success with various cases. The other two were pathetic attempts by a very determined classmate when he had been in Uni.

Nothing he hadn't experienced before, yet when John had kissed him it had felt unlike anything he had felt before.

It had been overwhelming and slightly messy and, for lack of a better word, electrifying.

It had terrified him to his very core.

Sentiment was for the rest of the world. He had no time for it. He had already decided that whatever 'feelings' he had been experiencing over the course of this experiment were brought on by nothing more than his body's physiological responses to so much physical contact at once.

It had nothing at all to do with John. His body didn't seem to share his opinion however.

With a now much steadier hand, he pulls out his phone. It had been just over an hour and a half since Sherlock had watched John leave, blaming himself for something that he himself was at fault for and Sherlock had let him, to preoccupied with his own guilt, his own body's responses at the time to do much else.

At least this was all over.

He had played the game well.

He had won.

He had broken his best friend to do it.

Skimming through his contacts, he paused on John's number.

His fingers hesitated over the keys for a moment. He should call John. Explain everything to him.

John would be furious at first, but he would eventually forgive Sherlock. He always did.

Maybe he would find it funny as Sherlock had when Mycroft had first proposed this ridiculous game.

 _No._ John would be quite angry.

The phone ringing in his hand made Sherlock startle. Disappointment fluttered through him when he looked at the caller ID.

He let out an irritated breath before answering.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" He asks quite put out. He hadn't the time for this right now.

"I believe congratulations are in order, dear brother. You won our little game after all." Mycroft's nasally voice supplied.

"Of course you were watching us." Sherlock snarled.

"Of course." Mycroft answered, false cheerfulness and all.

"I expect the camera's gone, Mycroft. That's what this whole bloody mess was for after all." Sherlock said angrily. He knew this wasn't really Mycroft's fault, but blaming him fully seemed to alleviate at least a portion of his distress.

"I will have the surveillance removed first thing tomorrow morning." Mycroft supplies. "Though, a word of advice, brother. You might consider responding positively to Dr. Watson's ministration's in the future. Some might find ' _sheer terror_ ' a turn off."

"Oh, shove off, Mycroft! It's none of your business!" Sherlock yells into the phone before ending the call.

With a huff Sherlock falls into his chair, pulling his legs up and circling his arms around them.

He closes his eyes against the dim light in the room, and thinks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

John pulled the thread bare blanket up over his shoulder as he settled as best as he could into Lestrade's small, lumpy sofa.

"If you need anything just let me know." Lestrade says from the doorway. John gives him a small smile, or at least he hopes it's a smile.

"I'm fine and thanks Greg, for letting me stay."

"It's nothing. The missus is still over at her sisters with the kids so it's no problem." Lestrade says. "Night."

"Good night."

 _God._

 _What had he done?_

He had told Sherlock he was in love with him, that's what he'd done.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he had kissed him.

He felt so horrible. He couldn't bare the thought that he had ruined their friendship but he feared that's exactly what he had done.

The way Sherlock had looked at him after he had pushed John away was seared into his brain. He had been totally off the mark with that one. How could he have even begun to think that Sherlock would be interested in that sort of thing to begin with? And with someone as ordinary as himself, too.

John had been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he had let his mind trick him into thinking that his feelings were returned.

Thinking back on it now, it should have been obvious. Sherlock hadn't even kissed back. How had John not noticed?

In the moment, John's brain had been flooded with emotion and sensation, the realization that finally he knew what Sherlock's lips felt like against his own.

Even now, knowing that he had just ruined everything good in his life, his mind kept wandering back to that feeling and John hated himself even more for it.

He wanted to make things alright again between them. He had to try.

Running wouldn't solve anything, John knew, but Sherlock hadn't seemed to want John near him so he had fled.

Maybe he could call him. Apologize again. Promise that it will never happen again.

Except he wasn't sure that his voice wouldn't break if he spoke to Sherlock right now, but he couldn't leave it this way.

Grabbing his phone, he scrolled down to Sherlock's number and stared.

He could text him. But what would he say? What if Sherlock didn't respond?

After almost ten minutes and twelve aborted texts, John decided that he should keep it simple.

 _-I'm sorry-_

John pressed the send button and waited. After a minute passed John thought he may actually cry, until his phone chimed. He almost dropped it to the floor in his haste to read the response.

 _-Where are you? S.H.-_

John frowned. Sherlock hadn't accepted his apology. Although, he had responded. That should count for something at least.

 _-Lestrade is letting me kip on his sofa-_

Another minute goes by before he receives another reply.

 _-Will you be coming back tomorrow? S.H.-_

John answers immediately.

 _-I didn't know if you would want me there anymore.-_

He gets a response in seconds.

 _-Don't be ridiculous. S.H.-_

Followed immediately by another and John lets out a relieved sigh.

 _-I always want you here. S.H.-_

John had to remind his heart that Sherlock did not mean this in the way John truly wished.

 _-I'll be home in the morning then.-_

After a few seconds his phone chimed again.

 _-Bring milk. We're out. S.H.-_

John fell asleep smiling at the text, thinking maybe everything would be okay.

/

When John let himself into the flat the next morning Sherlock was no where to be seen. There was however a man standing on a ladder in the middle of their sitting room, taking a screwdriver to their light fixture.

He was tall and thin. A bit young looking, with spiked up hair and a gray uniform. He turned towards John when he entered and gave a polite smile.

"Hello, sir."

"Hi." John replied, not really knowing what else to say. "Um..."

"Don't worry. I'll be finished and out of your way in no time." The young man replies turning back to his work.

"And what is it your doing?" John asks. Sherlock hadn't mentioned anything about the lights needing repairing.

"Removing the surveillance equipment. Apparently Mr. Holmes lost a bet. He's asked me to handle the removal that the younger Mr. Holmes requested." The man answered cheerily and John has to fight back the exasperated sigh that comes with Mycroft and his insistent meddling. After a couple of seconds, though, the rest of the man's sentence seeps in.

"Surveillance, you said? Just how much surveillance is there?" John asks, silently praying that Mycroft at least had the decency to exclude the private areas of the flat.

"Oh, pretty much every room has a camera or two." The man answers.

"I suppose that includes bedrooms and the bathroom as well?" John asks, hoping he's wrong but doubting it very much.

"You would be right." The man says and John cringes.

Great. Mycroft was monitoring their showers.

John's room too.

Any sex he'd had when he brought women back to the flat. Or when he was alone.

Mycroft bloody Holmes had seen him wanking.

"That utter bastard." John says aloud before he can stop himself. The man chuckles as he moves his ladder into the kitchen.

"I hear ya. I work for the man." He says with a sympathetic smile. "I've heard the younger Mr. Holmes is even worse, though. Makes me wonder how on earth he was able to win their bet in the first place."

"Bet?" John asks curious. The man had mentioned something about a bet earlier.

"Yes, sir. Something about the younger Mr. Holmes having to make someone fall for him." The man answers as he works and John feels the bottom of his stomach drop out as he puts the pieces together. The man is still talking but John can't hear much with the rushing of his blood in his ears.

All of it had been a bet. Everything.

The list John had found. The way Sherlock had been acting. It had all been a fucking bet.

"It's all a bit not good to me, tricking some poor sod into it like that, you know? Sir? Are you alright?" The man asks but John ignores him, turning back towards the door.

God. He feels sick. He feels so fucking angry he's getting light-headed.

Sherlock had sat back watching John make a fool of himself, watching John fall for him. He had let John leave yesterday thinking he had done something horrible, that all of this was his fault.

Sherlock had stood there and had the nerve to act like some victim, like John had assaulted him out of the blue, when all along he had planned it. Him and his fucking brother.

John had to go. He had to get the fuck out of here now.

Just as John's hand found the knob, life decided to screw John once again. Sherlock had swung the door open, looking at John questioningly.

John had to clench his fists by his sides so he didn't punch him square in the jaw….repeatedly.

"John. Are you leaving?" He asks before taking in John's apparent state and John can see a flicker of worry cross Sherlock's face briefly before he masks it. "What's wrong, John?"

John lets out a pained laugh at that. As if Sherlock had no idea what he could have possibly done that would have upset him.

Hell. Knowing Sherlock, maybe he did think what he'd done was no big deal.

"I was so bloody stupid." John says aloud, shaking his head slowly.

"What are you-" Sherlock starts but shuts his mouth mid sentence when John looks up at him.

"Was it entertaining for the two of you watching me make a god damn fool of myself?" John asks harshly and after a moment he see's it. The recognition in Sherlock's eyes. "It must have been for you at least. You have always loved a challenge." John remarks snidely as Sherlock steps forward, his hands coming up in a halting motion.

"John, it's not what you think." Sherlock says and John lets out another unamused laugh.

"Oh?" John asks unconvincing. "So you didn't make a wager with Mycroft that you could make me fall in love with you?"

"Bloody hell! You're the bloke he targeted?" The man on the ladder says suddenly causing them both to look his way for a moment.

"Oi. Do your job, yeah?" John says leveling the man with a look that has him turning away quickly, before looking back over to Sherlock.

"John, it wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me Sherlock! Not one more fucking lie!" John yells, interrupting whatever excuse Sherlock was about to give.

"I'm not. John, if you'd let me explain, I'm sure that you'd-" Sherlock tries again, but John stops him.

"You want to explain how it isn't what it looks like?" John asks pulling the paper he had found days ago from his pocket. "Then explain this!" He says forcefully, holding it out. Sherlock looks down at the paper surprised, before looking back to John, his face showing small traces of sadness. Even guilt.

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock says quietly fixing John with a pained look. John has a sudden unbearable urge to make it better. To tell Sherlock everything's okay.

But everything is not okay and John wouldn't fall victim to Sherlock's manipulations again.

He just wanted this done. Over so he could leave.

But he wanted to know why. Why Sherlock would do something like that to him when they were friends. Had Sherlock really thought so little of him? Had everything since they first met been a lie?

"We are friends." John says aloud wanting...no...needing it to have been true.

"Of course, John." Sherlock answers immediately, but it makes John feel no better.

"Then how could you do something like this to me?" John asks and he knows he's not hiding any of the anguish he feels from the guilty expression Sherlock fixes him with. "Do I really mean so little to you?"

"Of course not, John. You are-" Sherlock starts but John just can't do this anymore. He just can't.

"Stop." John says, halting him. "I cant-. I need to leave."

"John, wait." Sherlock says, grabbing his arm as he pushes past him to the door. John jerks away immediately. Rage renewed, he levels Sherlock with a look that has him letting go immediately.

"Don't you fucking touch me. Not after what you've done." He spits out as he tries for the door, but Sherlock blocks the exit once again.

"John, don't go." Sherlock says and it sounds pleading. "Please."

John wouldn't fall for this either. The look, the way Sherlock's voice broke slightly when he said please. No. Sherlock was trying to get one over on him again.

"Was any of it real? Hmm?" John asks trying his best not to let his voice break, trying not to fall to fucking pieces in front of him. "I'll stay if you can look me in the eyes, Sherlock, and tell me that any part of the last week has been real."

John waited. He waited until Sherlock broke eye contact. With a nod he moved forward again.

"Yeah. I thought as much. Move."

Sherlock didn't budge. He was looking at John again, his face worried.

"John, we should talk about this. That's what you're always saying."

"Nothing to talk about, Sherlock. I'm done." John says, cutting him off. He was tired. He just wanted to go.

"Done with what?" Sherlock asks and he looks a little scared.

"With this conversation. With this friendship. With being in this flat another moment longer. Take your pick. Now move." John growls, wanting desperately for his words to hurt Sherlock.

"No." Sherlock says shakily and his face is a mask of the anguish John had felt earlier. Oddly, it makes John feel worse. "John, just let me explain."

"Move, or I'll move you, Sherlock." John says and watches as Sherlock lowers his face and steps aside.

"I'll have someone over for my things within the week." John says. One last sentence to hurt the detective before storming out.


	15. Chapter 15

True to his word John had sent someone over for most of his things four days after he had stormed out.

Said person was John's sister, Harry and she was pissed.

"Harriet." Sherlock had greeted at the door only to be shoved aside as his sister bustled into the flat.

"Where's his room?" She asks not even looking at him. Sherlock answers before returning to his place on the sofa.

After about ten minutes of rummaging and packing she comes back down and just stares at him.

"Is there something I can help you with, Harriet?" Sherlock asks after it gets uncomfortable for even him to handle.

"What did you do to him?" She asks harshly. "He won't tell me much."

"Then perhaps it's none of your business." Sherlock says offhandedly.

"He's my little brother! Whatever you did….it broke him. He won't eat, he doesn't sleep. He took a week off from work." Harry said, her tone worried. "You guys were best friends. You need to fix this."

"I've already apologized. I'm not sure what else I'm expected to do." Sherlock answers without looking over to her. Maybe she would take the hint and leave.

"Well if you apologized to him with the same lack of concern you're giving me, no wonder it didn't work out so well." She bites back and Sherlock rolls his eyes at her persistence.

"I gave John a most heart-felt apology. He's the one who said he wanted nothing more to do with me. He's the one who's moving out." He answers snappishly.

"He's moving out because whatever you did was so-" She pauses not sure how to finish the sentence. "Look, it may not be my business, but I used to worry all the time about him. After he got back from the war, he was different. He wasn't living, you know? Just surviving every day. Every time the phone rang I was scared that it would be the police. That they had found him in his apartment. Then he met you and he changed. You made him better for whatever reason. He was happy again. Alive."

"If it was so great with me, why is he moving out?" Sherlock asks sarcastically. He knows he's to blame for this whole mess but he can't help but lash out.

"I don't know. You tell me." Harry says and she's got a look on her face that reminds him so much of John that he gives in.

"I lied to him. I tricked him. John said it couldn't be forgiven." Sherlock says looking away from the familiar eyes that Harry shared with her brother. "I tried to apologize. I even begged him to stay."

Sherlock can sense her staring at him for a moment before she lets out a long sigh.

"I don't know you really well. I can't really vouch for you...but I can tell that you regret what you did. I'll talk to him. Just give him some time. We both know how stubborn he can be."

Sherlock nods because that's all he can do and Harry walks to the door, pausing before she slips out.

"If he does come back though, be warned. If you hurt him again, I won't be so nice."

"Dully noted." Sherlock answers with a small grateful smile.

/

The next day Sherlock had waited patiently for something to happen. A phone call, an impromptu visit, even a text from John but it was going on two o'clock and he had heard nothing.

A couple hours later, he understood why.

Looking down at the text that had just came in Sherlock felt more resigned than anything.

' _You fucking cock! You don't deserve my brother! Piss off and die!'_

John must had filled his sister in on what had happened.

Sherlock couldn't blame her for the text or the anger. What he had done was horrible. Even he realized that. John had not deserved what Sherlock had done to him. He didn't deserve to have a friend like Sherlock.

John was….good.

He was loyal and kind. He was selfless and caring. He was the bravest man Sherlock knew. The best man Sherlock knew.

He had always accepted Sherlock for the strange person he was. He never got tired of him, even when Sherlock was depressed from boredom or being a 'complete psycho' as John sometimes called it. He didn't complain when Sherlock played his violin in the middle of the night or when he left dirty dishes around the flat.

John though he was amazing when everyone else thought he was a freak. And John loved him. John had chosen him over anyone else to love, to be with. He had loved Sherlock enough that he had abandoned all of his views on his own sexuality, about standard social convention and chosen him anyway. He had chosen to expose himself to Sherlock, to show his vulnerability, when he had confessed his love, even though Sherlock had read the terror in his eyes.

Sherlock had never felt so loved as he had in that moment when John had looked him in the eye and said those things. When he had closed the distance between them and kissed Sherlock like he needed him to breath.

But Sherlock had messed up. He had done something to John that had shattered everything John had felt for him.

John didn't need him anymore. He didn't want Sherlock in his life and Sherlock didn't deserve to fight for it.

If John was the embodiment of good, then Sherlock was bad.

He had never deserved someone like John. He had always known that. He had also known that eventually even John would leave him one day. That he would do something to drive him away because that was Sherlock's nature. He was selfish, hateful, full of insults even in the best of times. He was incapable of showing gratitude or kindness.

No, John was better off without him, Sherlock told himself once again.

It was better this way. He couldn't hurt John any more. If he felt even a degree of affection for John, he should leave him alone.

/

After the seven day mark Sherlock's opinion in the matter began to wane a bit.

He missed John.

He had never 'missed' any one. People were generally annoying to him. They were stupid and boring. They were a waste of his time and energy, but John was different. He always had been.

Sherlock could feel the loss like a limb which made no sense. He had been on his own his entire adult life. Surely he should be fine on his own now.

So why was he constantly typing out aborted texts to John? Why was he sitting in John's chair instead of his own? Why did he feel like he needed to hear John's voice at this very moment?

/

Another two days pass much the same.

No messages or calls.

Mrs. Hudson comes by a couple of times and tries to force him to eat, but he can't eat when he's thinking. Nor can he sleep for that matter.

He usually got this way during a case.

'Feelings' had never been the cause before.

He used to be able to separate himself from feeling things for others but John had always known how to break through Sherlock's barriers. He always knew just the right words, or the right action and slowly the barrier had lifted and John had slipped right through and into Sherlock's heart.

But the thing with feelings were that they were always changing.

He thinks now just how naive he was to think that he could let John in without consequence. Thinking back on that first day, that first case, he knew that the things he felt for John now were so much more and with John gone they only seemed to intensify and he didn't know what to do with it all.

There was no book on realizing that you loved someone far too much or how to stop loving them when they didn't want anything to do with you anymore. There was no manual for what to do when your heart was in pain because you missed that person so much, you felt as if you couldn't breath.

Sherlock thinks about John now. About how if he were still here he'd be sitting in his chair. The smell of tea would no doubt be wafting in the air from the kitchen. It was five in the evening so John would probably be watching a bit of telly. His electric blue eyes were always so animated when he watched that one idiotic show he liked. John would no doubt have moved to the sofa in an attempt to get Sherlock to watch with him. After a considerable amount of complaint Sherlock would have joined him. They would sit shoulder to shoulder like they had on so many nights in, John's aftershave invading Sherlock's senses and the warmth of his body heat seeping into Sherlock's arm.

They would stay there like that, just the two of them, until it got late. John would stand to leave first, placing a warm hand on his shoulder as he says goodnight. Traces of their earlier laughter would still be evident in the curve of John's lips and the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

He thinks of John now and wonders what he's doing at this very instant. Perhaps he was thinking of them as well, though after what Sherlock had done, maybe not.

He thinks of John never coming back and his heart feels as if it's being ripped in two.

The thought of not seeing John again nearly undoes Sherlock. 

On the tenth night of misery, Sherlock decides enough is enough.

He wanted to call so desperately, but John would probably answer a text rather than phone call when he was angry.

' _I want you to know that I am truly sorry, John. -S.H.'_ Sherlock typed out and waited.

And waited and waited.

After twenty minutes he decides John probably isn't going to respond.

After another minute, he can't stop himself from trying again.

' _I never wanted to hurt you. You must know that, John. -S.H.'_

The night went on with more one-sided texting. Sherlock just hoped John was reading them.

' _I want to fix things, John. Tell me how. -S.H.'_

' _John, please answer me. I know I don't deserve it, but please. -S.H.'_

' _Come home. I miss you. -S.H.'_

After this one Sherlock had started to give up when his phone chimed. His heart fell immediately though when he read John's only response.

' _Leave me alone.'_

/

The texting goes on for another week. John never responds again but Sherlock is sure that John is reading them.

He texts him good morning every morning and good night every evening. He asks for forgiveness in new and creative ways every day. He tells John he misses him and that he wishes he would come back home. The only thing he doesn't tell him is that he loves him.

Sherlock can't bring himself to type the words.

He had only gotten up the courage to say them out loud to himself just yesterday.

Love was new for Sherlock. It wasn't something he had felt before. The fact that he was approximately ninety-seven percent sure that he loved John not only platonically but romantically as well made the whole thing close to unbearable for him.

That whole stupid plan had been to make John fall in love with Sherlock, and it had worked better than it was supposed to because Sherlock had fallen in love too.

John had always been amazing. Sherlock knew that from the start. But something had shifted in Sherlock during those couple of weeks. He had seen a different side to John and it had made an impression.

Sherlock only wished he had realized it when John had kissed him. Maybe then John would be here and they would be together.

But was that what Sherlock truly wanted?

A relationship with John?

Sherlock conjured up an image of John in his mind once again standing in front of Sherlock in his old faded trousers, his beige wooly jumper, smiling up at Sherlock with bright blue eyes contentedly.

He's seen John this way a thousand times, but this time he can feel the unfamiliar stuttering of his heart, the fluttering in his stomach, his quickened pulse, even a wave of desire runs through him at the image.

He knows he cannot leave things this way between them, not when they have the potential to be so much more.

John had asked him if any of it had been real. At the time Sherlock hadn't thought so, but he had been so wrong.

He had to tell John just how wrong he was.

But first he would have to figure out how he was going to do that.

Sherlock couldn't show up at Harry's flat. That would only hurt his case, not help it. No, he would have to wait until John was working. Perhaps he could pose as a patient. John wouldn't have time to run. He'd have to at least hear Sherlock out.

Yes. It was decided. Sherlock would go to John and tell him how he felt. Calling the clinic, he found out that John would be working a shift in two days. It seemed like a long wait but Sherlock would spend this time preparing. Getting used to the idea of being in love. Of wanting to touch and be touched.

If John did forgive him by some miracle, Sherlock didn't want a repeat of what happened last time they touched.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It had been torturous to wait another two days but Sherlock had endured it and now he was sitting in the waiting room of the clinic John worked at waiting for his name to be called.

Obviously he had used an alias. He was Simon Holland, a thirty-eight year old male with untreated high blood pressure.

He had caught himself fidgeting three times now in the course of the ten minutes he had been waiting. With a roll of his eyes, he willed his hands and feet still. Never had he thought that he would be reduced to the actions of a love sick teenage girl.

After another five minutes he was ready to fore go any restrictions they may have about 'employee's only' and burst through the door to find John himself. Luckily a tired looking nurse opened the door and called for him.

Height and weight taken, the nurse walked him to an examination room.

"Just wait here. Dr. Watson will be with you shortly." She says closing the door behind her.

Sherlock thought about how he should arrange himself. Should he stand? Or maybe lean against the wall? Maybe he should be sitting on the examination table.

Ugh! What had come over him? Was he seriously flustering over what position he should be in when John walked through the door.

With a self-admonishing sigh Sherlock sat himself on the examination table. He was here to see Dr. Watson, after all.

After a moment the door opened. John walked in, face in the file he currently held in his hands.

"So, Mr. Holland, you've been feeling chest discomfort?" He asks before looking up. When he meets Sherlock's eyes, the polite smile is gone.

"What do you want Sherlock?" He asks, all warmth gone from his voice and Sherlock feels the pain of it deeply.

"As I said, chest discomfort." Sherlock answers. John can't kick him out if his purpose really is medical. Though a broken heart probably doesn't qualify in reality.

"Be serious, Sherlock. Why are you here?" He answers through gritted teeth. Most likely trying to keep a check on his anger. Punching a patient was sure to get him fired.

"I am serious. My chest hurts horribly. It feels as if it's being torn into." Sherlock says meeting John's furious eyes with his own. When John doesn't respond Sherlock speaks again.

"Aren't you going to ask me why?" He asks hopeful but John looks away angrily.

"No, because I don't care." He says before cringing. Even he could tell how childish that sounded.

"It hurts because I hurt you." Sherlock says and John turns to look at him, frowning. "It hurts because I miss you. It hurts because there are so many things I need to tell you." Sherlock says trying his best to keep his expression open. He can see John wavering in his anger, but stubbornness wins out and he frowns at Sherlock again.

"I'm working. You can't just barge in here to talk."

"Please, John." Sherlock says softly. That word had always worked on John in the past. After a moment John turns away. He grabs hold of his chair and brings it next to the examination table and sits stiffly.

"You have two minutes." He says and he sounds so void of emotion, so different from the John that Sherlock knows. It makes the ache that much worse but he swallows it down. John has given him a chance to talk.

"First, I want to apologize again, John. I regret having hurt you more than you can comprehend. Secondly, I have taken this time during your absence to think on my actions and the importance of our friendship and came to a startling conclusion." Sherlock says trying his best to hold John's eyes as he speaks. He wants John to know everything he's saying now is the truth.

"Well? Out with it. You have forty seconds." John says after a moment. He sounds irritated but at least he's listening. Here's the tough part. The part Sherlock had practice over one hundred times in the past two days.

"So….John." He starts and has to pause to take a couple of calming breaths before continuing. "I have found myself…..for quite some time now-" - _another breath-_ "thoroughly compromised by sentiment for you. While I have always assumed that this sentiment was stemmed from a platonic nature, I now have every reason to believe that I was in fact wrong."

John is just staring at him now, his mouth hung open slightly and Sherlock wishes he would just speak. The silence is worse than any rejection because it reminds him of the silence in the flat now that John has left.

"You mean you-" John starts after a moment, stuttering to a halt and Sherlock takes pity on him.

"Yes." He answers and sees something like shock make it's way across John's features before he stamps it down and all that's left is confusion and sadness.

"But you don't feel things like that. You said-" John starts and Sherlock can't take seeing John's eyes look at him this way.

"How can you not realize that you are the exception to everything?" He says, cutting John off, willing him to see the truth in his words. John face is scrunched up in a way Sherlock has only seen once before. He looks like he may cry and Sherlock wants desperately to reach out and offer him some sort of comfort.

"Dr. Watson, sorry to interrupt, but you have an important call on line two. It's the surgeon for Mr. Heathrow." An older woman, a nurse, says from the doorway, and John turns away from Sherlock immediately.

"Thank you, Agnes." He says, his voice slightly rough. "I'll take the call in here. Mr. Holland is ready to check out anyway." John finishes still not looking at him. The nurse nods and leaves and Sherlock stands to leave too. He had tried. That's all he could do.

Just as he gets to the door, John stops him.

"Wait." He says and Sherlock turns to see that John is looking at him again. The hurt is still there but he's managing to hide it fairly well. "Um...bye." He says before turning to his desk. Sherlock smiles despite the pain tugging at his heart.

"Good bye, John."


	17. Chapter 17

**So this is the last chapter. I hope that everyone has enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **There is an 'adult scene' in this chapter. If you are uncomfortable please do not read past the warning I placed below.**

 **I have never written that kind of scene before but hopefully I at least partially nailed it. Once again, a big thank you to everyone who left me comments. You all helped me through this one!**

 **Chapter 17**

Sherlock pushed through the door to his flat and sunk into his chair with a disappointed huff.

That encounter could have gone better, Sherlock thought to himself dismayed.

Sherlock had been so sure that if he was able to talk with John face to face that he could have managed to get John to come back. Instead, John had gotten more angry with him.

He had even apologized in person. John always forgave him when he apologized. It was one of the many things about him that Sherlock found endearing.

John also appreciated honesty, whether good or bad, and Sherlock had done just that when he had told John about his feelings. John should be over the moon with happiness that Sherlock returned his affections but he had gotten angry all over again.

In fact, John hadn't responded to any of Sherlock's attempts at reconciliation in 'typical John fashion' and Sherlock had run out of ideas.

He would never understand human emotion. It made no sense. One word or phrase or action could have a thousand meanings, a thousand different emotional responses.

It was all much to messy for Sherlock. If this were anyone else he were trying for, he wouldn't have given a second thought to giving up.

The sudden ring of his phone breaks him out of his revere. Looking at the screen he pauses for a moment.

John was calling him.

Hope and fear both clung to him as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"John? Is everything alright?" He asks because he doesn't know what else to say. There's a moments pause where Sherlock actually thinks he may scream from suspense, but finally John answers.

"I'm coming over." John says and Sherlock can still hear the anger laced in his words, though it does seem a little milder now. None of that matters though because John wants to come over. He wants to see Sherlock.

"Oh. Alright. That's good." Sherlock says hoping that his voice didn't sound quite as desperate to John as it did to his own ears.

"Right. Good. I'll see you in a bit." John answers and hangs up without saying goodbye.

Just one more thing that wasn't typical John behavior.

/

Twelve agonizing minutes passed by before Sherlock heard the familiar sound of John trudging up the stairs.

He listened intently as John made it to the door, trying his best to look composed, but John had paused. Sherlock counted the seconds, griping the arms of his chair tightly so he didn't do something ridiculous like pulling John inside himself.

Another moment passed and Sherlock holds his breath as John opened the door. He doesn't look at Sherlock until after he closes the door behind him and hangs up his jacket.

Sherlock reads instantly the tension in his body, all the things John's feeling but Sherlock hasn't seen John for so long and he just looks so perfect, standing here, in their flat with his worn loafers and ugly jumper.

"John." Sherlock says in greeting, standing from his chair. "Tea?" He offers, trying for normal.

"I'm fine." John says after a slight shake of the head before he takes a few more steps into the room. Sherlock doesn't know what to do or say next and John doesn't look like he knows either. They're both just standing there, looking at each other and Sherlock feels as if they will be stuck like this forever, but then John speaks.

"What you said….at the clinic." He asks, confusion and hurt and hope lacing his voice. "Did you mean it or did you just say it to try and get me to forgive you?"

Sherlock takes an involuntary step towards John as he holds his gaze earnestly and answers.

"I meant every word." He says and John looks away with a nod before stepping forward himself. They're still a few feet away from each other and Sherlock wants desperately to close the distance but he doesn't want to run John off when he's finally come back.

John's eyes finally find his again.

"Then….say it properly." John says, determined and Sherlock is confused. Had he not said it right before at the clinic? He had thought that he had conveyed his feelings perfectly.

"I don't understand." Sherlock says frowning. John lets out a long sigh.

"Say it properly, Sherlock, or I won't accept your apology." He says and although Sherlock thought he had said it quite efficiently before, he would say it again, only for the fact that John would forgive him.

"Fine." Sherlock says, steeling his nerves. He wasn't well versed in the ways of the heart and saying something like this aloud was nerve-wracking, but he would….for John. With one final deep breath he charged ahead.

"As I said earlier, there is a certain level of sentiment that I feel for you that cannot be explained as anything other than-." Sherlock says but John interrupts him.

"Sherlock-" John says, disappointed and Sherlock knows that he's missing something here.

"You know damn well what I meant." John says and Sherlock really doesn't. "I want to hear you say it." He finishes and it finally clicks with Sherlock what he wants. Taking another step forward Sherlock looks at John. At his determined expression, the hint of embarrassment and he says the words that he had kept hidden away in his heart, even from himself, for so long.

"I love you, John."

/

John had come here to yell at Sherlock. Tell him that he couldn't just do whatever he pleased, then confess his love and think everything would be swept under the rug.

The minute he had stepped through the door though, all he could think about was that he wanted to hear Sherlock say it again.

Hearing the words, hearing Sherlock really say it, had repaired something deep within himself.

He was still pissed. Probably would be for a long time, but Sherlock loved him back and how could he not be just a little ecstatic about that.

"Well?" He hears Sherlock say and he wonders if he missed something.

"Huh?" John asks and Sherlock's frown grows.

"Isn't it the social norm to reciprocate?" He asks and John almost laughs.

"I don't think you've earned that yet." John says and Sherlock nods.

"I have done some things recently to you that would be in the realm of 'not good'." He says with a sad smile and John scoffs.

"Try something beyond not good. Try despicable." He says even though his anger has all but evaporated.

"I am sorry, John." Sherlock says taking another step towards him. "Are you- will you come back home?" He asks so unsure, so unlike himself. John wants to tell him yes. Wants to make the sadness leave his eyes but he's not sure he can.

"I want you to come back desperately." Sherlock says and his voice is so small.

"Sherlock-" John says. He doesn't know what to do here. What to say.

"I've missed you every moment you were away." Sherlock continues and John steels himself against the emotions he's feeling because of Sherlock's words.

"What you did was bad, Sherlock. It can't just be forgot-"

"I love you." Sherlock says again and John can feel his heart flutter at the sound of it. He can feel himself loosing his resolve and he shakes himself out of it.

"No, Sherlock." He says with conviction and the other man frowns again. "You used me. You tricked me into falling in love with you all for the sake of a game with your arse hole of a brother." He says, all the hurt he felt coming out in his words.

"Perhaps we could both blame my brother for this whole thing. He was the one who suggested you from the start-" Sherlock says only to stop at the pointed glare John levels at him. "I tricked you." He admits softly.

"You betrayed my trust. You disregarded our friendship as if it meant nothing to you." John pushes forward. He needed to get the words out. Needed Sherlock to hear them.

"It does. John, it means so much." Sherlock says, his voice holding a slightly desperate quality but John continues because he can't just forgive Sherlock yet. He needs him to understand what he did, that John won't be tricked like this ever again.

"You...you hurt me...more than-" John starts, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispers moving right in front of John. "Forgive me." He says just as softly as he takes one of John's hands in his own.

"You-" John starts to argue, but his brain is malfunctioning with every pass of Sherlock's thumb over his knuckles.

"I love you, John." Sherlock says again and John knows he's lost.

"Well, as long as you understand." He stutters out not wanting Sherlock to know quite yet. "You have a lot to answer for Sherlock Holmes."

"I will endeavor to make it up to you every day, John Watson." Sherlock answers holding John's eyes with the amount of emotion John can see in them right now.

"Will you?" John says, trying to sound unaffected, but his voice just broke and Sherlock is smiling at him now and John is lost in all of it.

"I will." Sherlock says so quietly before he leans down and places a chaste kiss at John's hair line. John's breath hitches at the contact and Sherlock leans back, looking at John again. His face is so open. So genuinely filled with love that John had to close his eyes to it.

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock breaths out before pressing a kiss along one eye lid, then the other and John has to remind himself to breath.

"Forgive me." He says, kisses ghosting along both his cheekbones making John take a stuttering breath.

"Will you accept my apology?" Sherlock asks, this time placing the barest hint of pressure just at the corner of John's mouth before pulling back once again. There's no reason why such chaste kissing should be affecting John so much, but he is indeed affected. He has to take a moment to clear his mind before his whole argument is forgotten.

"I'm still bloody pissed off at you Sherlock. A few kisses aren't gonna fix-"  
Sherlock decides to interrupt him by ducking back down to capture his lips softly. John closes his eyes and goes with it. Despite the fact that they were still not okay, that John was still pissed, he really couldn't help himself. Not when Sherlock's lips were against his own.

 _God._

This was only the second time he had felt Sherlock's lips on his own, but he knew he would never want anyone else.

When he feels Sherlock's tongue snake across the seam of his mouth, he's gone.

He opens to it instantly, taking it in his own mouth, sucking lightly for a moment.

Sherlock shakes and lets out a sound John has never heard him make before. Something deep and needy and John can't even remember why he was mad anymore.

They trade heated kisses there in the sitting room, one minute turning into five.

John's heart is hammering against his ribs and he can feel Sherlock's doing the same with every swipe of tongue and biting caress.

John feels like he can't breath and he can tell that Sherlock is in the same condition but he can't bring himself to stop.

He needs this.

Them together. As close as he can get them.

Slowly John walks them over to Sherlock's chair and pushes lightly until Sherlock seems to take the hint and sits down heavily, John following him down, straddling his thighs.

Sherlock's hands come up, rubbing up John's chest, along his shoulders, then around to his back and John shutters.

He honestly can't remember ever having felt this sensitive to someone elses touch before. He let's himself get lost in it.

Let's himself get lost in Sherlock. The way he's desperately touching him. How he can't seem to get close enough to John either.

And then Sherlock's phone rings.

It take them both a moment before they fully comprehend it, but eventually Sherlock pulls his phone from his pocket.

They can both see Mycroft's name lit up on the screen and Sherlock lets out a frustrated growl.

"Must he continue to ruin my life until the end of time?" He says bringing the phone to his ear, but John snatches it away before he can speak.

"Sherlock can't come to the phone right now, Mycroft. He is being thoroughly ravished." John says into the phone hearing Sherlock give an embarrassed groan as he listens to Mycroft's reply. He smiles down at Sherlock cheekily before he answers. "Well that's too bad seeing as I have no intention of letting Sherlock leave my bed for the remainder of the day. We'll just have to see about tomorrow." He says as he watches a blush form on Sherlock's cheeks. "I'll pass it on. Bye." John says into the phone before throwing it over onto the sofa.

Sherlock is looking at him with a scandalized expression and John can't help but laugh. Sherlock pouts at this at first, but eventually he gives John a smile.

"So what did Mycroft want?" He asks, frowning on his brother's name.

"Something about checking up on you because you've not left your flat in over a week. He wanted to see you today."

"Ah."

"Oh, and he wanted me to pass along his congratulations on our….consummation of our feelings."

"Ugh. Let's drop the subject immediately. I believe we were in the middle of something much more interesting."

"I couldn't agree more." John says as he pulls Sherlock in closer, taking his bottom lip into his mouth biting down lightly. Sherlock whimpers and It's the hottest sound John has ever heard.

Sherlock's looking up at him a little dazed and John can't think for the life of him what he'd done to deserve such an amazing person as Sherlock.

[ _WARNING_ ]

"John." Sherlock breaths out so quietly and his breath fans out over John's face and John has to taste him again.

He brings their mouth together again in a heated, messy kiss. He brings a hand up, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. He'd spent so long fantasizing about what it would feel like, but nothing he had imagined about Sherlock was as good as reality.

"Wanted this for so long." he says in between kisses as his other hand touch Sherlock everywhere he can reach.

"John." Sherlock moans, throwing his head back a little as John runs his tongue along Sherlock's neck before sucking a bruise under his jaw. 

John feels like he's on fire. His body is desperate to feel all of Sherlock he can. Not able to hold back any longer, John gives a small thrust bringing both his and Sherlock's groins together.

Sherlock let's out a deep moan in time with his own, and his hands shoot up to grab at John's hips. He's shaking and he's breathing harshly into John's mouth. His eyes have squeezed shut and he looks a little like he's in pain. Somewhere in John's brain, it supplies him with the thought that this looks a lot like the failed kiss weeks ago.

John pulls back immediately.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asks studying him. Sherlock doesn't answer, but he does open his eyes.

John has never seen anyone as beautiful as Sherlock is right now. His pupils are blown, his cheekbones are dusted pink, his lips are parted and his breathing is labored. He's looking at John in awe, but he also looks absolutely terrified and John has to fight not to pull him back in.

John thinks again as he had many times before, if there might have been more truth to Mycroft's teasing at Buckingham Palace than Sherlock had let on.

"Sherlock, can I ask-"

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock interrupts, still slightly breathless. "You want to know whether or not I'm a virgin. That is what you were going to ask wasn't it?"

"It was." John answers.

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock says impatiently grabbing onto John and pulling him back against him.

"Sherlock, wait." John says, placing his hands flat against Sherlock's chest. "I just- I want to make sure we're not rushing into anything here."

Sherlock looks away for a moment before he steels his expression.

"You've changed your mind. You don't want this with me anymore because of my inexperience." He says, and though he has schooled his features, John can still hear the hurt in his voice.

"Now when did I say that, you big git?" John says exasperatedly. "I want to make sure that we don't do something you're not ready for. This is new to me as well. I don't want to mess it up before it really begins."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"I am a thirty-four year old healthy male who has never engaged in sexual intercourse. Further more, I have found myself quite increasingly aroused for the better part of a month. You, the person that has made me feel such, are currently seated in my lap. I can personally think of nothing I would rather do more than have sex with you this very minute."

John lets out a chuckle that turns in to a full laughing fit at the grave expression on Sherlock's face.

"I do not find this at all humorous, John. In fact, I can personally think of three much more useful things you could be doing with your mouth right now." Sherlock says with a coy smile causing John to blush this time.

"Four things." He adds, as another thought comes to him and John gives a chuckle.

"So romantic." He jokingly complains and Sherlock's smile gives way to a look of uncertainty.

"If you wanted romance then I'm not-" He starts but John stops him with a shake of his head.

"No. I want you, Sherlock. All of you. Right now in fact." John says, his interest renewed as he gazes shamelessly at Sherlock's body.

"Good." Sherlock says before pulling John back to him for another searing kiss.

"Bed." John suggests breathlessly when they finally break free. Sherlock starts trailing hot, wet kisses along his neck, ignoring him, sliding his hands under John's shirt, trailing heat up his chest. He grazes a nipple on his way and John moans dirtily.

 _They need to be horizontal._

 _Now._

John had a mental list of things he wanted to do to Sherlock, most all of them better laying down.

"We need a bed." He tries again and Sherlock growls low in his throat as he pulls John closer. John has to suppress the whimper that threatens to come out at that particular noise.

In all seriousness it was Sherlock's first time and John didn't want it to be in their sitting room where Mrs. Hudson could walk in.

"Sherlock-" He says again placing his hands against the mans chest and Sherlock levels him with an irritated look that John meets full force.

" _Fine!_ " Sherlock groans before standing abruptly, almost sending John to the floor. He barely has enough time to get his footing before Sherlock takes hold of his wrist and drags him into his bedroom.

Like lightening Sherlock closes the door and presses John against it, running scorching kisses along his jaw and neck.

"Off." Sherlock demands after a minute, standing up straight, pulling at John's jumper and under shirt. "Why do you insist on wearing so many layers? It's hardly practical."

"I feel the cold." John says with a smile as he helps Sherlock remove his shirts.

Sherlock looks at him greedily for a moment before pulling away from the door, maneuvering him at the foot of his bed. He makes quick work of John's belt before giving him a swift push. John goes down happily, kicking off his shoes, socks and trousers before inching his way up the mattress.

He lay watching Sherlock, eyes zeroing in on pale flesh as he strips off his own shirt and trousers until he's standing there in a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

"God." John says, unable to help himself at the sight in front of him. How was he this lucky?

"You're used to women. Should I not have-" Sherlock starts, his arms coming up to cover himself and how can Sherlock not know how he looks?

"God, no Sherlock. You're beautiful." John says in awe before reaching out a hand towards him. "Come here."

Sherlock obeys immediately, closing the space between them, their bodies aligning perfectly before lowering his mouth to John's in a heated kiss.

All John can focus on is the wet heat of Sherlock's tongue, the pressure of Sherlock body pressing him down and the fact that he still want's more.

John lifts his knees up, bracketing Sherlock's narrow hips and they both groan at the sensation.

John can feel Sherlock hard and heavy, pressed against his hip and it seems so unreal that someone like him could turn Sherlock on but the truth is right there and it sends pleasure rolling through him.

Sherlock's weight feels perfect on top of him. The way he can't seem to decide where he wants his hands or his mouth is really endearing and extremely hot but John needs more.

Like lightening, he flips them over, grinding their groins together roughly and Sherlock arches up on the bed with a gasp, nearly dislodging John from above him.

"Too much?" John asks, running his hand slowly through Sherlock's hair, while the other stills on his hip.

"Keep going." Sherlock breaths out heavily and John does. John pulls Sherlock up, capturing his lips again, as he settles his hips back down, aligning their cocks perfectly through the thin cotton barrier of their pants.

They both groan at the new kind of sensation, and John has to fight to keep himself still to make sure Sherlock is truly alright with this new development.

When Sherlock gives an impatient huff and begins rutting up into him, John doesn't think he's ever felt quite so relieved.

John soon sets a rhythm and begins trailing a line of hot, biting kisses along Sherlock's throat to his collar bone.

"John." Sherlock whimpers out and John thinks he could loose it just from Sherlock's voice alone.

"God," John moans breathlessly. "Sherlock."

He bends his head again to take Sherlock's tongue into his mouth while at the same time thrusting down hard, and Sherlock shoots up off the bed, another deep moan rumbling through his chest.

 _God._ Sherlock was so responsive.

A thought barely formed in John's mind before he was taking hold of the waistband of Sherlock's pants and pulling them down swiftly. Sherlock let out a startled gasp that transformed quickly into a low moan when John shed his own pants.

"John." Sherlock groaned sounding completely wrecked.

John couldn't wait to hear all the sounds Sherlock would make once they were flush together with nothing between them, but Sherlock was naked, in front of him. Panting, wanting, and John had to take a moment to just look;

Smooth pale skin over firm muscles, dipping down to narrow hip bones.

He really was beautiful.

Even his dick was perfect.

Hard, jutting out, the head leaking gently.

He was a little longer than John but just as thick.

John had expected this to feel wrong somehow, firstly because it's Sherlock, his best friend.

Secondly, because Sherlock was a man.

He'd been wrong. There were no feelings of wrongness or second thoughts.

"John." Sherlock says and John looks up at him sheepishly.

"Sorry." He says with a smile before noticing that Sherlock has tensed up again.

"Am I not...is it-" Sherlock starts, uncertain and John for the life of him can't believe that someone as beautiful as Sherlock could feel so self-conscious.

"You're perfect, Sherlock." John says before lowering himself down between Sherlock's legs, no material between them now. "So perfect." John stutters out as he gives a small thrust.

Sherlock moans throatily at the contact, and John feels a surge of arousal spread though him at the sound. Sherlock obviously approved of this just as much as John did.

Reaching down to grab at Sherlock's hip once again, John starts back up a rhythm. Sherlock's cock is leaking steadily, slicking them both up with each thrust and John all of a sudden has a desperate need to taste.

John lifts himself off of Sherlock and hears a whine of protest before he lowers back down, his head hovering dangerously close to Sherlock's straining erection.

"John." Sherlock howls out as John closes a hand around him.

John's own dick twitches at the sound, turned on and ridiculously pleased.

Slowly, he darts out his tongue along the slit of Sherlock's cock, tasting the moisture that had gathered there experimentally. The light touch has Sherlock jerking wildly, a deep moan escaping his lips and John has to reach up to push down on his hips so he doesn't loose an eye.

John wraps his lips around the tip, sucking lightly as he works his mouth down then up again. Sherlock lets out a strangled moan, and John starts working his hand in time with his mouth.

" _J_ _ohn, ohhh_ _..._ _oh god._ " Sherlock moans and John lets him fall out of his mouth, but continues to slide his fist up and down as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Sherlock looks completely wrecked and John is so turned on by the fact that he's the one that did this to him that he can't think straight.

John lets out his own moan at the sight in front of him before he takes Sherlock back into his mouth, sliding down slowly, tightening his lips around the length of him before coming back up again. John can feel the harsh jerking of Sherlock's hips against his hands as John flattens his tongue against the head and swirls his tongue all the way around before sliding down again.

John wasn't sure he'd be any good at this but Sherlock is shaking and moaning and babbling non-sense so John must be doing something right.

Sherlock's thrusts start to getting faster and harder, his moaning turning into gasped out praises of ' _so good_ ' and ' _don't ever stop_ ' and ' _John_ ".

The last one is John's personal favorite. He loves how his name sounds coming out of Sherlock's mouth when he's desperate and wanting. He's never heard anything greater.

John flicks his tongue along the head again, drawing out Sherlock's pleasure and tasting it on his tongue before sucking on the head.

" _Oh...John...Oh fuck!_ " Sherlock shouts out, driving his hips up harshly and sending his cock deeper into John's mouth and John thinks he might have spoken to soon earlier.

Sherlock cursing was probably the greatest thing he's ever heard.

Sherlock is shaking now with every slide of his tongue and John can feel him start to get harder as he works him in and out of his mouth.

Sherlock groans low and loud, his thrusting speeding up and erratic as he grips John's head forcefully. John watches as Sherlock stills and throws his head back, eyes closed and mouth open as the groan turns to a shout of ' _Oh God_ ' and ' _John_ ' as he pulses again and again into John's mouth, down his throat. John swallows all of it by some miracle and pulls off, resting his forehead in the dip of Sherlock's narrow hip.

After catching his breath, John takes himself in hand. He'd already been on the edge the moment he had seen Sherlock's naked body. It doesn't take long. Just a few strokes and he's coming, Sherlock's name on his lips.

Sherlock is still trembling slightly as he grabs for John and John lifts himself up and crumples on top of Sherlock. They lay there for a moment, sweaty, chests heaving as Sherlock runs his fingertips through the sweat soaked skin along John's back.

When John catches his breath he leans up and plants a lazy kiss to the corner of Sherlock's mouth.

"That was..." Sherlock starts but pauses. John lets out a breathless laugh.

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'amazing' or 'brilliant'. I'll take 'best shag ever' as well." John says and Sherlock chuckles.

"I don't think it would be fair to either of us to label it as such. A more in-depth study will be required before I can give a decided opinion. It would require repeat performances in a number of activities." Sherlock says with mock seriousness and John smiles into his chest.

"Repeat performances?"

"Certainly. I'm thinking you should probably move back in as soon as possible so that we can devote all our free time to it." Sherlock says whilst ghosting his fingers back and forth over John's back.

"I think that's a brilliant idea." John answers lazily.

"Indeed." Sherlock agrees with a soft chuckle.

"But not today." John says lifting himself up to look at Sherlock. "I believe I made a promise not to let you out of this bed and I'm a man of my word."

"I do recall you saying something about thoroughly ravishing me." Sherlock replies with a coy smile. John smiles in return before leaning down to kiss Sherlock properly. When they finally break apart, John is struck with the reality that Sherlock wants this too. He wants to be with John just as badly. He loves John just as much as John loves him.

"I am thoroughly compromised by sentiment for you, Sherlock." John says, mimicking Sherlock's ridiculous confession, with a contented smile.

"Shut up." Sherlock says, flushing in embarrassment before pulling John's lips to him for a chaste kiss. "I love you too, John." 


End file.
